A Tribute to Mayhem
by PhoenixSong4232
Summary: Fred and George have always had a firm grasp on mischief, whether its taking an accidental dose of love potion or infuriating a particular Great Aunt. Yet sometimes humor must be set aside to deal with power hungry Dark Lords, w/ tragic results. OneShots
1. Midnight Stroll

A/N: So this is the first in a series of one shots, all of which will be published to this story. The categories will range from humor, to general, to hurt/comfort, ect… though all of the one shots will feature Fred and George and generally at least one other character from the Harry Potter cast. For our first one we have Ginny Weasley. This takes place very shortly after Harry and Ron bust her out of the Chamber of Secrets. Without further ado, hope you enjoy.

…..

Fred Weasley rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time in the past twenty minutes, his normally agreeable bed sheets feeling suddenly heavy and stifling as they tangled themselves around his legs and middle. It was a mystery to him why sleep had chosen to be so elusive that night. What with Slytherin's monster finally defeated, his sister Ginny safely retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets, and McGonagall's announcement regarding the cancellation of end of term exams, sleep should have found him faster than Snape could outrun shampoo. Yet here he was, staring up at the rather boring bottom side of his four poster bed, just as awake now as he had been hours ago during the pajama party that had taken place in the Great Hall following the demise of the basilisk.

An absence of heavy breathing from the bed next to his told him that his twin, George Weasley, was every bit as awake as he. Fred wondered, not for the first time, if his brother was feeling any bit of the uncomfortable guilt currently gnawing away at his own stomach. Guilt was not something Fred came to terms with often and he generally found, on the rare occasion he did find himself dealing with it, the sensation was always a rather uncomfortable one. Practical jokes and clever pranks were he and George's life's breath, their bread and butter of sorts; something that came as easily to them as studying came to Hermione, or being a royal prat came to Percy. They rarely felt guilty about any of the stunts they pulled or any of the higher ups they happened to displease. Yet it was another matter entirely when it came to family and their little, and only, sister especially.

This wasn't to say that their family got off easy on any account. Oh no the Weasleys had become used to being the unwilling guinea pigs of many a Fred and George stunt throughout the years. Even so the twins always did their best to make sure none of their pranks ended in actual harm or hurt feelings (though if someone's pride, namely Percy's, happened to get slightly trodden on in the process, well the twins had never considered themselves angels and some things just couldn't be avoided…).

It had obviously come as something of a shock to Fred when he and George had been pulled aside by their father earlier that night and told in brief detail who, by no fault of her own, had been opening the Chamber of Secrets throughout the course of term. With a queasy feeling in his stomach Fred had recalled the multiple times he and George had covered themselves in fur or boils and jumped out at their unsuspecting sister from behind tapestries or suits of armor. Their actions had seemed all in good fun at the time but now made his insides knot uncomfortably. Cleary he and George's attempts at cheering up the youngest Weasley sibling had backfired horribly, and it was no wonder she had gone to Ron and Harry instead of himself and George mere hours before she'd been taken into the Chamber. (Ron had filled them in on all the details their father hadn't informed them of earlier during the feast).

Upon later attempting to visit their sister in the hospital wing, they had been turned away at the door by Percy. The boy had stated loudly that Ginny was finally sleeping under their mother's watchful gaze and if they cared at all for their younger sister's well being, they would let her get some much needed rest. Feeling slightly put out, the twins had returned to the feasting and celebrations before eventually retiring to bed.

Finally coming to terms with the fact that he was not going to be sleeping anytime soon Fred rolled over for the hundred and first time, fixed his eyes on the other Weasley and hissed:

"Psst, George!" Said twin rolled over as well, his brown eyes meeting Fred's own, not appearing surprised in the slightest that his brother was also completely and totally awake.

"Yeah?" he inquired, keeping his voice at a barely audible whisper so as to not disturb the snoring Lee Jordan who was slumbering away contentedly in a bed mere feet from his own.

"What say you to a midnight stroll with a little help from our good friends Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? I think a visit to our dear Ginevra is a bit overdue," Fred stated, propping himself onto one elbow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an all too familiar smirk.

"I'd say that's an excellent idea Fred," George responded quietly and without another word he rolled from the comfort of his mattress to land catlike on the wooden floor beneath him before tiptoeing over to the large trunk at the end of his bed and carefully pushing it open. Fred joined him seconds later, watching silently as George shoved aside old textbooks, Quidditch robes, Zonko's merchandise, and tattered quills before a muttered "ah-ha" finally left his lips. The boy's head disappeared momentarily as he reached for the map stowed at the bottom of the trunk, not noticing the single Filibuster firework that had been shoved precariously to the top of a large pile of dirty socks.

Fred realized what was going to happen seconds before it did and time seemed to slow as he made a wild dive for the firework right as George's elbow knocked it off the pile. The rocket twirled end over end through the air, missing Fred's outstretched fingers by centimeters and instead crashing into the floor, immediately going off with a thunderous boom! Sparks and little firecrackers spiraled off in all directions, popping and fizzing loudly as they weaved and bobbed excitedly across the enclosed dormitory. The twins ducked as the tiny flames whizzed over their heads, shrieking noisily before vanishing, all their magic spent. There was a moment's silence after the firework finally fizzled out, a moment in which Fred and George merely stared at each other, before a grin split across George's face and he nonchalantly got to his feet, dusting himself off and saying:

"I reckon that's why Harry's seeker and not you mate. Spectacular dive though, I'd have given it an eight out of ten personally."

"Wh-wh-what's going on?" The twin's glanced over to see that in the raucous caused by the firework, Lee Jordan had indeed woken up and was now attempting to speak through the large yawn that had just taken over half his face.

"Filibuster Firework. Nothing life threatening. Go back to sleep," Fred responded shortly, standing as well and nailing George in the head with a well aimed pillow from his bedside. Lee Jordan, either incredibly tired or perhaps just used to displays such as these, promptly did just that, his guttural snores audible not twenty seconds later. Deciding that tomorrow would be a much better time to deal with the disheveled trunk, Fred grabbed his wand from the bedside table and tossed George his own before quietly making his way toward the door leading out to the spiral staircase and the Gryffindor common room below.

Together the twins crept down the stairs, keeping an ear open for Percy or anyone else who might still be awake following the festivities. Yet the late hour had finally seen everyone to bed and the common room was deserted when the two set foot at the bottom of the stairs. The fire in the hearth had dwindled down to glowing embers, providing just enough light for the twins to make their way uninhibited to the backside of the Fat Lady's painting. Pausing inches from the entrance Fred pulled out his wand and whispered _"lumos," _providing enough light for George to see the crinkled parchment as he placed his wand on it and murmured:

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The twins watched as the contents of the map spider webbed out in front of them, keeping an eye on the ink blobs that read Filch, and Mrs. Norris respectively. The cat was pawing along a corridor near the prefects bathroom on the fifth floor while the caretaker was skulking around the trophy room on the third. After checking briefly for Peeves (bobbing along on the fourth floor near the library), Fred and George quietly pushed the portrait of the Fat Lady open and slipped carefully into the corridor beyond.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" The Fat Lady sniffed from behind them, sounding more than a little put out.

"Oh shove it," Fred hissed before he and George started off along the hallway, the later shooting the Marauder's Map careful glances before every turn or twist in the corridor. The festive cheer had rapidly left the interior of the castle once the students and teachers had retired to bed and Fred wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to find that, despite the short amount of term remaining, there would still be plenty of time for detention were he and George to be discovered. Then there was always house points to consider, though Gryffindor most definitely had a rather upright lead thanks to the solid amount of points awarded to Harry and Ron earlier that evening.

Still Fred would much rather spend the last days of his fourth year outside in the sunshine as opposed to inside under the austere gaze of Filch, McGonagall, or Snape. More intimidating still was the knowledge that his mother was sleeping somewhere within the castle walls and were he and George discovered, he had no doubts that she would hear of it and be the first to distribute a thorough tongue lashing.

It was with this thought in mind that the twins stole as silently as possible down to the third floor, making their way quickly and cautiously in the direction of the Hospital Wing. They had nearly reached the large double doors when George suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes grazing the map wildly before he grabbed Fred's wrist and pulled him sideways into the shadows behind a well concealed suit of armor.

"What-" Fred started but shut up immediately as George trod rather painfully on his foot, a warning look in his eyes. Not two seconds later Filch ambled into view around the corner, muttering to himself about extra festivities causing excessive amounts of mess, illegal fireworks, unnecessary raucous, the list went on. The twins shrank back as the caretaker passed them by, hardly daring to breathe as his eyes swept over their hiding place. He seemed to pause for the briefest of moments before shaking his great, greasy head and continuing along the corridor, muttering to himself the whole way. Only after they were sure the danger had passed did the two step out of hiding, George shooting the map a grateful look as he placed it back in his pocket, crossing the hall to the Hospital Wing in three short strides. Sighing Fred followed him.

"Almost a shame he didn't see us really," he muttered. "I've been wanting to curse Filch for ages."

"Doubt you could have made him much uglier though," George replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Fred grinned at him before pulling his wand from his pocket, tapping it on the handle of the door and whispering: "_alohomora." _With a barely audible click the door unbolted itself and Fred and George slid silently inside, keeping one wary eye open for Madam Pomfrey. Somehow they doubted the head nurse would be glad to see them despite the obvious purity of their intentions.

Since the departure of the basilisk victims the hospital wing was a rather empty place, only two or three of the beds now occupied by students requiring medical attention at some point in the recent past. Ginny was not hard to locate as her flaming red hair stood out quite vividly against the stark white of the pillow resting beneath her head.

"Probably be a bad idea to sneak up on her eh?" Fred whispered to his twin who snorted his agreement. Right then however they heard a sound that pushed any further ideas for joking from their minds. It was a soft sniffle unmistakably emanating from the direction of their younger sister's bed. The twins exchanged a quick look of alarm, identical expressions of dismay sliding across their features. The job of comforting the 'little ones' had always fallen to their mother as Fred and George's idea of cheering someone up always seemed to end in explosions, incredibly enlarged body parts, facial deformities, or the transformation of unsuspecting blokes into some type of fowl animal. Somehow the two didn't feel as though one of these more practical methods would be quite what Ginny was looking for in her current situation.

George shot Fred a look that stated quite plainly: _proceed with caution_ to which Fred nodded mutely. The two then carefully made their way forward, hoping they wouldn't startle the younger girl too much and thus alert their presence to the hospital wing's watchful head nurse. Fred felt for sure he would rather be back in the corridor facing Filch than dealing with Madam Pomfrey when she was in a temper.

"Ginny? Shh, Gin it's us!" George hissed as Ginny had turned toward them, her face alive with terror for a moment before her eyes rested on the twins and she visibly relaxed.

"Think we were going to attack you?" Fred whispered, bringing a hand up to his heart. "I'm hurt." Ginny sniffed again before wiping furiously at her eyes, the tips of her ears turning as red as her hair.

"What are you two doing here?" she whispered, her voice quivering dangerously as the twins took the seats by her bedside that had no doubt been occupied by Arthur and Molly earlier that day. "You shouldn't be in the hospital wing after hours."

"And you shouldn't be awake right now yet here we all are," George responded, raising an eyebrow and giving her a small grin to which Ginny snorted and shook her head.

"All things considered I'm surprised mum didn't end up staying with you all night," Fred remarked, glancing around the hospital wing as though he expected Molly to appear suddenly from beneath one of the beds. Ginny shot him a look, bringing her knees up to rest protectively underneath her chin.

"She wanted to but I told her I would be fine. I'm not a little girl, I don't need her and dad fawning over me all the time," she mumbled, though something in her voice told the twins this might not be quite true, at least not tonight.

"And she went, just like that?" George asked skeptically. Ginny shook her head.

"Not at first," she sniffed. "But Dumbledore came back in a little later and convinced her that I was in good hands and that she looked like she could use some rest herself. She and dad left pretty quickly after that." Fred and George exchanged another quick look that went unnoticed by their little sister. It was more than obvious she had been lying about not wanting her parents with her, a fact that didn't come as a surprise to either of them. Even at her young age Ginny was not one to depend too much on others and was even less inclined to become emotionally unstable in front of them. She would have felt very childish indeed asking her mother to stay with her through the entirety of the night though the twins had no doubt Molly would have been more than happy to do so.

"Are you sure you don't want mum here Gin? I mean honestly you look a bit like a house elf that's been hitting the mead," Fred stated bluntly, a statement he immediately wished he could take back as Ginny shot him a furious look and immediately pulled the blanket over her head, sinking as far as she could into her pillows.

"Just leave Fred. Please I'm trying to sleep," she hissed and with a start of guilt, a feeling he was becoming all too familiar with lately, Fred heard that the watery quality had returned to her voice. There was a moment's pause in which George took a deep breath before ever so carefully placing his hands on the top of the sheet in an attempt to pull it out of his sister's tightly clenched fists.

"We're sorry, Fred's sorry. Really we're just trying to help. If my exceedingly stupid, insensitive, ugly-"

"-witty, intelligent," Fred broke in.

"-git of a twin brother keeps his mouth shut will you please tell us what's bothering you?" George asked, pointedly ignoring his brother.

For awhile all they could hear from beneath the white sheet was muffled sniffles, George finally gave up trying to wrestle the blanket from her hands, and Fred was just beginning to wonder if they really should leave when an incomprehensible mumble finally emanated from where he imagined his sister's mouth must be. Blinking the twins glanced at each other, Fred raised an eyebrow and George shrugged.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Fred remarked, leaning closer to the form of their sister still hidden beneath the sheet. A brief silence followed his question before Ginny said in a very tiny voice:

"What if someone had died? It really w-would have b-been all my f-fault!" And the sniffles and sobs returned, louder and fiercer than they had been since the twins had arrived. Fred swallowed, hesitating a moment before cautiously placing a hand on the white bed sheet, finally succeeding in pulling it away from his little sister's tear stained face.

"Come on Gin…" he began but was cut off as Ginny suddenly, and unexpectedly, threw herself into his chest, wrapped her arms around his neck in a vice grip he would be hard pressed to break, and sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder. Fred blinked repeatedly. Of all the reactions he had expected, this certainly had not been one of them. Clearing his throat he patted his sister's shoulder awkwardly, shooting George a look that stated quite plainly: _help me out here! _Apparently his twin got the message as not two seconds later George shifted from sitting on the chair to settling himself down on the bedside next to Ginny, carefully patting her other shoulder while shooting an anxious glance in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's office.

Several minutes ticked by before Ginny was able to detach herself from Fred, her brown eyes as red and watery as ever, the girl appearing almost fishlike as she took deep gaping breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. Deeming it safe to talk George spoke up, one hand still resting on his sister's quivering shoulder.

"Dumbledore said it wasn't your fault didn't he? He said that older and wiser wizards had been done in by You-Know-Who and I guarantee you none of them could control what they were doing either. So even if someone had snuffed it-"

"-which no one did," Fred put in helpfully.

"-it wouldn't have been your fault," George concluded. Ginny swallowed, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand before a small, watery smile snuck onto her lips and her head gave the slightest of nods.

"R-right," she murmured, suddenly becoming fascinated with the blanket in front of her. "Thanks Fred, George." Fred nodded before getting quietly to his feet and shooting Ginny a grin.

"Well we'd better go. Wouldn't want to keep you awake any longer than we need to and I don't fancy the idea of a run in with the higher ups," he stated, jerking his head towards Madame Pomfrey's office. A brief silence followed this statement broken only by the light scuffling sound of George rising from his chair, turning his back on Ginny for a spell and scanning his eyes over the map.

"We're clear to go," he muttered in Fred's ear before turning back to Ginny and returning the map to his pocket. "See you tomorrow little sister."

"Can you stay?" The question was phrased so quietly the twins thought they might have imagined it if they hadn't seen the younger girl's lips move.

"What?" Fred asked loudly, forgetting for a moment to keep his voice down and remembering only when George kicked him in the shins. Ginny's whole face had turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia, her hands were shaking and she was staring all the more determinedly at her bed sheets.

"C-can you stay?" she asked again, even quieter this time. Fred and George looked at each other, a silent conversation only they could understand rapidly taking place over their sister's head. Fred glanced from Ginny to George and back again, his eyes scanning over her flushed face, shaking hands, tear stained cheeks, and slightly quivering shoulders and in that instant made up his mind. Since when had he cared for trivial things like school rules and curfew anyway? Quietly he slid back into the seat he had just vacated, George filling the one next to him.

"Course," he replied. A soft sigh of relief escaped Ginny's lips and she burrowed under her covers, facing the two chairs her older brothers had seated themselves in, blinking at them sleepily before closing her eyes. Fred and George sat in silence, watching their youngest sibling slip peacefully into the world of dreams, a small smile remaining on her lips. Finally George spoke up.

"Reckon we'll probably get in trouble for this," he murmured, sliding lower into his chair and letting his head rest against the seat's stiff back. Fred nodded his agreement.

"Presumably," he responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"You care?" George asked, yawning widely. Fred snorted.

"Not in the slightest. You?" George's answering grin was response enough.

…

It was a surprising yet heart warming scene that greeted Madame Pomfrey upon her arrival to the hospital wing the next morning. Ginny Weasley lay curled up in her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, red hair fanning over the pillow, exactly like the nurse had last seen her the night before. Now however one of her hands was gently holding onto Fred Weasley's own, her brother sitting sound asleep in a chair beside her bed with his head lolling onto his twin George Weasley's shoulder. George himself was sound asleep in the seat beside Fred's, his head resting rather comfortably against the stiff back of his chair.

Huffing exasperatedly yet unable to stop the warm smile that crept onto her lips, Madame Pomfrey continued on her way out the door and into the hallway towards the staff room. Visiting hours had by no means begun yet perhaps, just this once, she would make an exception.

…

So there you have it. The first of a series of one shots featuring Fred and George. They should be mostly in order according to the books but you never know, I might get an idea for something that happened before a chapter that's already been written. I'll let you know in the authors note. I hope you all enjoyed. Writing Fred and George in a more comforting environment was rather difficult seeing how you rarely see them in it and hopefully all was portrayed okay. Thank you for taking the time to read, let me know what you thought!

~Phoenix


	2. A Little Bit of Love Potion Part 1

**A/N: Thanks everyone for all the awesome feedback, much appreciated! SO this chapter has been split and is now a two shot instead of a one shot. It got so much more detailed than I thought it was going to be and therefore I thought I'd split it into two. SO without further ado, part one… **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. **

…

To say that Professor Minerva McGonagall was in a bit of a temper was comparable to stating that Lord Voldemort was only a touch on the murderous side, a declaration that could go down in history as the greatest understatement of all time. It was also surprising that the floor beneath the woman's feet had so far failed to depress considering the vehement way in which she continued to retrace her steps forward and backward across it's stony surface. Her usually composed facial features had been replaced by two red splashes in her cheeks betraying blatant irritation, thin lips that stretched disapprovingly into a set frown, and the large vein that was ticking away furiously in her upper left temple. One could practically see the steam shooting from her ears.

McGonagall's black shoes clicked noisily across the flooring one last time before finally coming to an abrupt halt, the woman exhaling loudly and setting the palms of her hands on the surface of the desk in front of her. Green eyes swept furiously over the two identical red haired boys standing on the desk's opposite side, her expression one of utmost exasperation.

"I'm just not sure what to do with you two anymore!" she exclaimed loudly, her gaze flying between the young men with an almost dizzying speed. Fred and George Weasley, the duo in question, exchanged a brief glance of contained amusement before returning their gaze to the fuming woman in front of them.

"Well then it might be easier for all of us if you didn't do anything at a-"

"That is exactly the kind of behavior I'm talking about Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall barked, interrupting Fred before he could finish his sentence. "Never before have I seen students with such a keen disregard for the rules! Detentions make no difference to the pair of you and clearly house points mean next to nothing as you both possess quite the unique talent for losing them!"

"We care about the house cup professor," Fred stated, feigning hurt.

"Yeah," George put in. "I mean as long as Harry keeps making a habit of beating You-Know-Who at the end of every year then-"

"This is not a joke!" McGonagall bellowed, immediately silencing both twins with the intensity of her gaze. "Thanks to the two of you this entire floor now reeks of dung bombs which, need I remind you, _should not be thrown within the walls of this castle_!" Fred looked as though he wanted to say something but one quick look from McGonagall changed his mind. Huffing loudly she pressed on.

"As if dung bombs weren't enough you also felt the need to release an entire stock of Filibuster Fireworks into the first floor corridor while surrounded by students and staff! We're lucky nobody was injured! I would love to hear what you have to say for yourselves!" The woman paused expectantly, piercing the twins with a well placed glare.

"Well," Fred began, "it wasn't exactly our fault this time around." McGonagall cocked a brow.

"Is that so? Do tell," she responded, the disbelieving undercurrents in her tone impossible to miss. George picked up where Fred had left off.

"Well, we weren't planning on setting off the fireworks or dropping the dung bombs in the first floor corridor at all," he stated.

"Bloody waste you see," Fred continued.

"And yet here we are," McGonagall replied dryly, drumming the tips of her bony fingers across the surface of her desk and pursing her lips expectantly.

"We were _going _to take them up to the common room-"

"Where they would remain quite innocently professor, honestly-"

"But Fred's bag split open when we were coming out of Defense Against the Dark Arts-"

"And everything else just sort of went to hell."

Silence followed this statement and Professor McGonagall suddenly found herself unsure whether to be amused or further exasperated by the twin's story. A quick glance at the ripped bag thrown carelessly over Fred Weasley's shoulder testified to that portion of their tale at least, yet there was one remaining detail that the two had clearly overlooked.

"The fact remains Mr. Weasley, that the items in question did indeed come from your bag, items that really are not allowed within the castle walls in the first place. Whether or not your actions were intentional is, unfortunately, a rather moot point," she told them, giving each Weasley in turn a pointed glance. A moment passed and for an instant it seemed as though the two would argue, yet a second later Fred gave a resigned sigh and a brief shrug of his shoulders.

"So, detention at the usual time then?" he asked while George suppressed a not so subtle snort beside him. The twins could have sworn they saw McGonagall's lips twitch in the slightest hint of a smile, though it must have been a mere trick of the light for when she spoke her tone was all business.

"I will be in touch with the both of you to inform you of your punishment," she told them, giving each boy a stern look over the top of her glasses.

"That sounds positively spiffing professor," George confirmed while Fred nodded enthusiastically.

"Riveting, truly. Now if you'll excuse us, we'll just be on our-"

"Gentlemen, one last thing," McGonagall said, halting the twin's hasty departure towards the door. "If I find anymore joke items set loose in the halls, anything that can be traced back to the pair of you, Gryffindor house will be lucky indeed to have a single house point to its name." With those parting words she returned to her desk and pulled a stack of papers her way, allowing the twins to leave her office without a second glance.

"Well, that was frightening," George said with a grin once they were well out of earshot of McGonagall's office and away from the first floor corridor. Fred nodded, shooting the bag hanging over his shoulder an irritated look.

"Yeah. Good thing the Undetectable Extension charmed worked but still a bloody shame about the wasted merchandise. We'll have to restock next chance we get," he responded, skirting around Mrs. Norris who had chosen that moment to turn her pale, lamp-like eyes on them.

"Bug off you stupid cat," George muttered, his foot giving an involuntary twitch as though it would have liked nothing more than to make the feline's squashed face even flatter.

"Have a nice little chat with McGonagall did you?"

A snide voice suddenly cut through the garbled chatter of the other students still milling through the halls, causing the twins to pause and turn towards its source. Aberle Dunham stood about five feet away from them, a large, stupid grin taking up a good half of his face while ratty little eyes peered out from beneath a unibrow nearly as bushy as Hagrid's beard and every bit as wild looking. The boy's rather large nose appeared crooked, like it had been broken and fixed one too many times, and Fred and George had made it a life goal to shake the hand of the chap responsible. Curly brown hair stuck out of his head in odd angles, making it look as though he had been on the receiving end of one of Seamus's pyrotechnics. Dunham occasionally played beater for Slytherin's Quidditch team if Derrick or Bole were incapacitated, a fact both Weasley's thought appropriate as his head was about as thick as a bludger.

The twin's faces melted into identical scowls, fixing Dunham with looks one might give a bit of dog poo suddenly discovered on the bottom of a favorite shoe.

"Bit confused aren't you Dunham?" George asked, his eyes narrowing rather dangerously.

"Yeah," Fred put in. "I didn't think they allowed trolls on the grounds these days." Any trace of the sneer on Dunham's face vanished immediately at this comment, one pudgy hand curling into an angry fist, his single brow contorting over his eyes. Opening his mouth he spoke very slowly, his words coming out in a carefully controlled hiss.

"Its too bad about what happened in the hall earlier. Shame you can't afford anything better than patchy old sacks to carry your stuff around in, then maybe accidents like that wouldn't happen," he growled, the wolfish sneer returning to his lips. There was a sudden flurry of motion as the twins whipped out their wands and Dunham brought his up with a swish, yet before anything got too out of hand another voice pierced through the sudden chaos that had engulfed the corridor.

"Fred, George! Don't you dare!" Two first years were suddenly shoved rather unceremoniously to the side as Angelina Johnson pushed her way out of the crowd to stand next to the twins, shooting Dunham a rather ugly look in the process.

"Let girls do your fighting for you these days, eh?" the Slytherin asked cynically, shooting a rather rude gesture in Angelina's direction. Fred started forward angrily but the girl placed a restraining hand on his arm, pulling him back.

"Come on, now's not the time to deal with this. You know Wood will kill you if you land yourselves in detention and end up missing practice," she told them firmly, keeping a hand on Fred's arm as a safety precaution. A moment passed as the trio glared at each other before the twins slowly lowered their wands, scowling as Dunham smirked and turned on his heel, disappearing into the dispersing students with a swish of his robes.

"Charmer that one," George stated, shoving his wand angrily back into his pocket. Angelina shook her head, finally deeming it safe to remove her fingers from Fred's arm and promptly doing so.

"Let's just get back to the common room," she said, heading off down the hallway and allowing the two to fall into step beside of her. A brief silence settled over the three before George suddenly sniffed briefly, his mouth quirking in a curious frown.

"Something smells a bit-"

"It's probably me," Angelina said shortly, interrupting George with a roll of her eyes.

"You? Why would it be…Oh," Fred trailed off, suddenly looking rather sheepish.

"I happened to be in the hallway when you two dropped all those dung bombs. I haven't had a chance to properly remove the smell," she told them, a hint of exasperation coating her words.

"Well in that case," George said, pulling out his wand and tapping Angelina with it. _"Scourgify!"_

"I could have handled it!" the girl protested immediately, shoving a grinning George's wand off her shoulder and completely ignoring the fact that any lingering stink had now lifted from her robes.

"Of course you could have Angelina dear, but seeing how it was our fault in the first place," Fred remarked airily, slinging an arm around her shoulders and grinning.

"It wasn't actually," Angelina responded, rolling her eyes and twisting out of Fred's reach.

"And why, pray tell, might that be?" George inquired, sneaking up on her other side.

"Dunham split your bag. He saw you come out of class and used some type of spell, I'm sure of it. He looked way too pleased with himself when McGonagall showed up," she responded. "And I saw him pull out his wand." A brief pause followed this statement as the twins scowled, exchanging identical dark looks.

"Bloody prat," Fred growled.

"No wonder he was so keen to get a word in when we left McGonagall's," George muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was a moments pause before Fred suddenly chuckled rather evilly, slinging an arm around his twin's shoulder.

"I think it's time we prepared a little surprise for Aberle Dunghead," he stated, the corner of his mouth twisting into a sinister grin. "We're going to need Bulbadox Powder, Exploding Fluid, and Lee's old Ever-Bashing Boomerang…"

….

A couple of hours time found Fred, George, and Lee Jordan entering Gryffindor tower, stomachs filled to bursting with food from the Great Hall, heads pressed together as they spoke in hushed voices concerning plans for Aberle Dunham. Shoving a couple of second years from their usual seats by the wall the trio collapsed into the chairs, Lee pulling a short list from somewhere within the folds of his robes.

"So Fred, you have the powder already correct?"

"Correct."

"And my dad's old boomerang is in the bottom of my trunk so that just leaves the Exploding Fluid," Lee muttered, scanning his eyes over the list and placing small checks next to the items already acquired. "Did we want to put together any befuddlement draught just to be on the safe side?" An immediate snort of laughter from both twins followed this statement.

"When have we ever done anything to be on the safe side?" George asked, raising his eyebrows amusedly. "It takes all the fun out of things."

"Mind you a befuddlement draft wouldn't make much difference anyway, Dunham's enough of an idiot as it is," Fred continued with a shrug. Right at that moment the portrait hole opened admitting Harry and Ron, for once without the company of Hermione. The two exchanged a quick word before Harry headed up the stairs, leaving Ron alone in the common room to begin looking under the many chairs and poufs littered throughout it's interior. Lee raised an eyebrow.

"What's your brother on about?" he asked, watching as Ron lifted a pile of parchment from beneath the nose of an unsuspecting first year, glancing at the bare table below before shaking his head and shoving the stack back into the young Gryffindor's hands. Fred sniggered while George rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond.

"He lost Scabbers about a week ago. I thought he was convinced Hermione's cat ate him but I guess he's still hoping to find it snoozing away somewhere," he explained, prodding at the table absentmindedly with his wand.

"But all he ever did was complain about the bloody thing. You would think he'd be pleased its gone missing," Lee commented, setting the list down in the center of the table. George was about to reply though stopped as Fred nudged him, nodding his head towards Ron who had finally noticed them and was now making his way across the common room towards their table.

"What are you three up to?" he asked suspiciously, clearly too familiar with Fred and George's antics to believe them merely enjoying a homework free evening.

"Nothing for little brothers to be poking their large noses into," Fred retorted, moving hastily to pick up the list. Ron however, beat him to it. With a swipe of his hand he slipped the paper from the table and glanced at the items scrawled messily upon its surface.

"Bulbadox Powder… Exploding Fluid…Ever Bashing Boomerang…Aberle Dunghead… Planning on pranking Slytherin's spare beater are you?" he asked in satisfaction, allowing George to snatch the list back from his hand with an irritated scowl.

"Picked up on that have you?" Fred snapped with a roll of his eyes. Ron bristled a bit, clearly still in a mood due to Scabbers' disappearance.

"Why couldn't you two just do something simple for once? I mean just light the git's eyebrow on fire or something and be done with it," he suggested with a shrug of his lanky shoulders. A pause followed this statement as Fred and George stared incredulously at their little brother.

"Light his eyebrow on fire?" George repeated slowly, staring at the younger Weasley as though he'd just sprouted extra limbs and a tail. Ron's ears immediately went pink.

"Well yeah, I mean have you seen it? Someone could get lost in that thing honestly," he mumbled defensively.

"I doubt anyone would want to get close enough to try," Lee put in, grinning at the expression on Ron's face. Fred shook his head before pushing his chair back from the table and getting to his feet, George and Lee quickly following suit.

"Sorry Ronniekins but we pride ourselves in originality when it comes to our little jokes," he stated.

"Yeah, combustion's been done mate," George agreed, attempting to give his younger brother a light tap on the head with his wand and failing as Ron ducked away, nearly upsetting the chairs they had just vacated in the process. With those parting words the three headed up the stairs and into their dormitory, clearly wanting to finish discussing their plans away from the curious ears of fellow Gryffindors.

"So, where might we find Exploding Fluid?" Fred asked, falling backward onto his bed with an ungraceful plop and folding his hands beneath his head. A moment's silence followed this outburst as the three mulled the question over, each searching for a solution to the problem. George walked distractedly across the dormitory, picking up a pale blue potion bottle he had filled with pumpkin juice at dinner, raising it to his lips and taking a rather large swig. Lee frowned thoughtfully, sitting down on his four poster and ignoring the creaking of the mattress springs beneath him.

"Well, there's always Clotilda Ackley," he suggested with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"Sorry, who?" Fred asked blinking while George spewed pumpkin juice onto his twin's shoe.

"Clotilda?That's actually someone's name? Honestly?" he asked in disbelief. Lee ignored him, instead turning to address Fred.

"You know? Clotilda? She was that pudgy, blonde girl who stopped us in the hall to ask about the effects of Exploding Fluid on salamanders the other day. For whatever reason she thought we'd know. Frankly I thought the answer was pretty obvious what with it being _exploding_ and all…" he replied. Fred's eyes narrowed and he seemed to be wracking his brains for a moment before a look of realization dawned on his face.

"Clotilda…fourth year, short hair, lots of pimples, complexion of a tomato…?" he questioned, rambling the traits off as they came to mind. Lee grinned and nodded.

"Yeah but I don't think she's that reddish color all the time. Reckon she might fancy you a bit mate," he told Fred wickedly, his grin widening as the words left his mouth. Fred shrugged, a smirk of his own playing across his lips.

"What with my roguish good looks and natural charm I'd be shocked if she didn't," he responded.

"I dunno though," George spoke up. "Your ears are a bit uneven. You'd think she would prefer the more symmetrical twin."

"Don't be stupid George, we both know I'm better looking," Fred replied without missing a beat.

"In any case," Lee exclaimed, breaking in before the twins could get too far off topic. "She might have some extra fluid lying around after her salamander experiments and I doubt she'd mind letting us borrow a bit."

"That settles that then," George stated, an excited smirk folding across his face. "Lee gets the fluid from her tomorrow and we begin 'Operation Dunghead.'"

…

The next morning was one of their coldest yet and it wasn't an uncommon sight to see students walking to and from classes clutching their robes tightly to their chests in rather fruitless attempts to stay warm. The dungeons were particularly unbearable and thin wisps of breath kept curling from the student's mouths before disappearing into the frigid air. And so it was with great relief that Fred and George made their way back up the corridor and into the Entrance Hall at the end of the period, rubbing numb fingers together but feeling quite satisfied with themselves nonetheless.

Lee had just slipped away to retrieve the Exploding Fluid from Clotilda and had fifteen minutes to meet them back in the common room before reporting for detention. Snape was, oddly enough, not in a forgiving mood when Lee had called him a 'greasy old codger' during class the previous day, the man delivering punishment with little hesitation.

Because of this the three had decided it best to pass the fluid off to the twins before Lee returned to the dungeons at the required hour. Despite usual tendencies to throw caution to the wind, none of them wanted to see what the potion master's reaction would be were he to find the fluid on Lee's person during the course of his detention.

Fred and George were in a bit of a rush themselves as they had Quidditch practice starting in roughly twenty minutes. Wood was pushing the whole team even harder than usual due to his obsession with winning the Cup that year and therefore would not handle tardiness well.

The two were halfway up the grand staircase when Fred cursed suddenly, coming to an abrupt halt with one foot poised awkwardly over the step in front of him. A group of first years who had been walking a bit too close behind the twins barely managed to avoid a collision, one of their members losing his balance completely and toppling backwards into the vanishing step below.

"What's up?" George asked curiously, completely oblivious to the scene beginning to take place behind them.

"Left my potions book in the dungeons," Fred responded shortly.

"Lets go get it then," George replied, turning to begin his descent down the stairs. Fred shook his head, darting past his twin and pausing a few steps below him, ignoring the group of first years who were now attempting to pull their classmate from the vanished stair.

"It's alright I've got it. Just get the fluid from Lee and I'll meet you in the common room before practice." With those departing words Fred skirted easily through the crowd of first years, disappearing down the steps in a matter of seconds.

"Right then," George muttered to himself before promptly continuing on his way to the seventh floor, ignoring the remaining students who had finally succeeded in pulling the first year out of the step.

As he arrived at the portrait hole Sir Cadogan leapt to his feet and drew his sword from its sheath, swinging it in several furious arcs that almost cleaved his unfortunate pony's head from it's shoulders. Barely a week had passed since Sirius Black had attacked the Fat Lady and already George found himself missing her much more than he ever thought possible.

"Stand and fight you freckle faced ninny!" the knight bellowed, pointing his blade at George with a great flourish that nearly upset his balance.

"Oddsbodikins," George stated, blatantly ignoring the painting's exuberant challenge.

"Draw your weapon coward or entrance shall be denied to thee!" Sir Cadogan exclaimed, leaping from one foot to the other in an action that was clearly meant to intimidate, yet only succeeded in giving him the rather absurd appearance of an armored ballerina.

"Oddsbodikins," George said again, still refusing to be baited by the persistent portrait.

"You dare ignore my chall-"

"The password's oddsbodikins you great arse and if you don't open up the bloody portrait hole, Dumbledore's going to have to find another replacement for Gryffindor Tower," George stated in a deceivingly pleasant tone, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it threateningly at the painting. A brief pause followed this statement in which student and portrait merely stared at each other before Sir Cadogan cleared his throat and slowly returned his sword to it's sheath.

"You are a cunning foe indeed! Alas, this day's victory is yours but the promise of round two rises anon!" he declared, finally swinging forward and permitting George entrance into the Gryffindor common room. With a shake of his head the young man climbed through the portrait hole, returning his wand to his robe pocket and glancing around for Lee. He located him standing by their usual table, shifting anxiously from foot to foot and glancing at the watch around his wrist every couple of seconds.

George had barely set foot inside the common room before Lee was bounding across the floor towards him, rummaging around in one of his pockets, his face screwed up in concentration. Coming to a halt he glanced warily around for watchful eyes before drawing a small, pale blue potion bottle from his robes, nearly identical to the ones George kept in his trunk.

"Clotilda slipped it to me after class," Lee murmured, dropping the bottle into the redhead's hands. "Where's Fred?"

"Forgot his potions book," George answered, eyeing the little bottle gleefully.

"Ah," Lee acknowledged briefly, shooting another sparing glance at his watch.

"Right well I'm going to run this little beauty upstairs," George stated, inclining his head towards the little blue bottle in his hand. "See you after practice." Lee nodded miserably, looking gloomily at his watch before slumping into the pouf nearest them.

"I think I'll stay here a bit longer. No use spending more time in the dungeons than I absolutely have to," he responded glumly.

"Completely understandable mate," George responded, giving his friend a brief yet sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning and taking the steps up to his dormitory two at a time. It took all of five seconds for the boy to arrive on the landing and upon doing so he immediately strode across the floor to where his trunk sat patiently waiting for him. Carefully setting the bottle down he placed his hand underneath the clasp and pushed the chest open, causing the small blue bottle containing his smuggled pumpkin juice to slide off the top of the trunk and roll unnoticed into the shadows beneath his four poster.

George frowned as he looked around the incredibly disorganized jumble that was the interior of his trunk. Sneakers, old pieces of parchment, spell books, robes, quills, Zonko's products, and more were strewn carelessly about the inside, not to mention all the Weasley sweaters, jeans, and socks which may or may not have been clean. Shaking his head he quickly closed the trunk again, shrugging and setting the little blue potion bottle containing the fluid on top of it. Fred would presumably be back within the next five minutes so George could decide on somewhere safe to put the bottle then. There was no way something crazy, unexpected, or unplanned could happen in the short period between then and now.

With that thought in mind George turned and headed back down the steps to the common room, figuring he might as well keep Lee company for the few minutes remaining before his friend left for the dungeons. Arriving at the bottom of the stairs he turned to make his way over to where Lee was sitting when a sharp voice suddenly caused him to stop short.

"Oy, Fre-no, George!" Said Weasley glanced up and was sorely tempted to run the opposite direction when he saw one Oliver Wood marching towards him, looking every bit as sickeningly fired up and intense as usual.

"Evening Oliver," George said with a short wave and a rather forced smile. Seeing how he would be putting up with them for the next hour or so, he really couldn't bring himself to be in the mood for one of his captain's long winded tirades.

"Heading down to the pitch are you? Excellent, let's talk strategy," Wood said quickly, starting off towards the portrait hole before George could respond.

"Er, I'm waiting for Fred actually. You go ahead, we'll be down in a minute," the redhead told him rapidly, sensing an escape route and taking it. There was a pause before Oliver shrugged.

"Just a quick word then," he stated and before George could do anything he was off on yet another tangent, something about Ravenclaw's new flying strategy and improved beater precision…

About two minutes later George, having already tuned his ranting captain out, watched as Lee slid off the armchair and made his way gloomily towards the portrait hole, nearly being run over by Fred in the process who had just clambered rather hastily into the common room. The two exchanged a few brief words before Lee slipped past him and vanished through Sir Cadogan's portrait while Fred strode inside, glancing around and pausing when he caught George's eye.

An amused smirk folded across Fred's lips as he recognized who exactly it was that George was talking to and, making no effort whatsoever to help his twin out, proceeded to creep up the stairs and out of Wood's line of sight. George inwardly rolled his eyes, making a mental note to slip something unpleasant into Fred's bed the first chance he got.

"…because Inglebee and Samuels really don't compare at all do they?" The redhead blinked as the constant buzzing in his ear that had been Oliver Wood's voice suddenly stopped.

"What? Oh, er, yeah of course," he said, hoping that whatever he was agreeing to wouldn't come back to haunt him later. Wood seemed satisfied however and gave an approving nod of his head before glancing down at his watch and jumping a foot.

"Is that the time? I'm off to the pitch and you two had better bloody well make sure you get there too! Every minute that we waste lessens our chances of winning the cup!" he exclaimed, looking like he might burst into tears at the very thought. George rearranged his face into a semi-hurt expression, shaking his head in a gesture of feigned disappointment.

"Oh Oliver, have a little faith," he said to him. The Quidditch captain merely shook his head, obviously knowing any type of retort would be futile, and instead turned and hustled off towards to portrait hole.

A quick glance at his own watch told George they now had eight minutes to get all the way out to the grounds and onto the Quidditch pitch and Fred still had yet to return from their dormitory. Rolling his eyes George turned and made his way up the stairs, figuring he would hurry his twin up a bit, naturally in the nicest most pleasant way possible. Arriving on the landing he pushed their door open and stepped inside.

"Oy, hurry up you lazy git or Oliver will have your arse for…" but he trailed off as his eyes slowly took in the scene before him. Fred was sitting cross legged on the floor of their dormitory, his eyes glazed and unfocused, the corner of his mouth folded up in a small, very un-Fredlike smile, while giggles kept issuing from his lips every five seconds or so.

"Fred?" George asked, the first hint of concern evident in his voice. "Fred, what are you doing?" A small hiccup escaped his twin's mouth followed by yet another giggle as Fred's eyes slowly rose up to meet his own.

"Heeeeeeeeeeey Georgie," he responded, the grin on his face even sappier looking than before. George blinked, his concern changing rapidly into blatant alarm.

"Fred what-" and then he saw it. Lying on the ground a few inches from Fred's knee was the pale blue bottle Lee had given to him mere minutes before, it's tiny stopper missing, the contents completely drained. George felt his face drain of color and he immediately sprinted the few steps to Fred's side, dropping to his knees as he grabbed the little bottle in one hand and waved it under his brother's nose.

"Did you drink this?" he asked, resisting the urge to grab his twin's shoulders and shake him. Fred turned blearily to him.

"Who cares if I drank it or not," he responded, his eyes taking on a misty hue. "That really isn't important right now."

"It bloody well is important!" George nearly screamed at him. "DID YOU DRINK IT OR NOT?" A moment passed, a moment where George was certain his heart had stopped beating and his lungs had forgotten how to work.

"Yeah… I thought it was pumpkin juice. Tasted a little weird though," Fred finally answered. "But George I've go to tell you-" George however, had stopped listening. He sat back on his heels, staring from the bottle in his hand, to the redhead across from him, then back to the bottle again.

"But you're not-I mean this is-But you haven't exploded at all!" George finally blurted out, knowing he sounded ridiculous and not at the moment caring. Fred's giggling promptly ceased, his eyes suddenly mournful as he turned to his twin and opened his mouth.

"You're wrong."

"What?"

"You're wrong Georgie." George blinked at him, Quidditch practice almost completely forgotten with this new turn of events.

"Wrong? What do you mean wrong?" he asked shortly.

"Its my heart," Fred replied solemnly, a sight that might have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing.

"What about your heart?" George pressed, a hint of panic creeping into his tone. Maybe the exploding fluid had had effect after all?

"My heart has exploded. With love."

An incredibly long silence followed this statement as George merely stared at his twin, his mouth opening and closing several times as it attempted to form a comprehensible sentence.

"Come again?" he finally managed to squeak, impressed that his voice was working at all.

"I'm in love George," Fred told him, suddenly giving a dramatic turn of his head and staring wistfully out the window.

"…In love with who…?" George asked slowly. Yet, as he stared at the bottle clenched tightly in his hand, he thought he might already know the answer.

"Clotilda. Clotilda Ackley."

…

**Yay part one finished! Hopefully everything was relatively accurate! Part 2 should be up shortly and will most likely be even more chaotic as this chapter was merely a set up for the next one xD. Please let me know what you thought!**

**I SAW THE HARRY POTTER EXHIBIT IN NEW YORK! It was absolutely awesome, phenomenal, amazing, and SO COOL! I freaked when I saw Fred and George's actual wands, skiving snack boxes, and Hogwarts robes! Of course everything else was cool too but of course they're my favorites xD See everyone in Part 2!**

**~Phoenix**


	3. A Little Bit of Love Potion Part 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the support, reviews, favorites, and alerts so far guys! I always love getting your input and comments and I'm glad that it's been enjoyable so far! Now without further ado… part 2. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

…

For the first time in his life George Weasley found himself at a loss for words. His mouth kept opening and closing in a futile attempt to construct something, anything, to say in response to his twin's sudden unexpected declaration. So far however, he had only succeeded in giving himself the rather ridiculous appearance of a marooned fish. Fortunately for him Fred didn't seem to have noticed as he had returned to staring out the window with a look of extreme, and incredibly uncharacteristic, longing.

"I've got to see her George, I've just got to," he murmured, looking every bit the hero in an old soap, right down to the glittering eyes and gallant expression. George ignored him, focusing instead on their current situation. They now had exactly one minute to get down to the Quidditch pitch and, despite the many short cuts at their disposal, there was no way they'd make it before practice began. The Gryffindor team was going to have a difficult time with a productive practice session if both of their 'unbeatable beaters' decided to play hooky on the same day. And naturally in the forefront of George's mind was the glaring probability of Oliver murdering them both in their sleep if they didn't show. All things considered there really was only one course of action he could take.

"Come on mate, we've got Quidditch. You can see Clotilda after," George said, rising slowly and shooting a rapid glance at his watch. Three seconds, two seconds, one second… they were late. Fred blinked slowly, still making no move to get off the floor.

"Can I really?" he asked dreamily. "Are you sure?"

"Course I'm sure," George answered impatiently, reaching down and grabbing his twin by the arm in an attempt to pull him upright. Fred allowed himself to be dragged from the floor but paused a moment later, the frown having returned to his face.

"I think I'd much rather see her now," he stated cheerily. "Quidditch practice can wait."

"She's at the pitch!" George spoke up suddenly, at this point willing to say whatever it took to get his love-sick twin out of the castle and down to the grounds. "She wants to see you play."

"Does she really?" Fred's face lit up excitedly. "Yeah, I am rather good aren't I?" George rolled his eyes.

"You're brilliant, now let's get a move on," he responded, taking two steps towards the door.

"Do you think it's possible to play Quidditch in dress robes?"

It took every ounce of George's self control to refrain from banging his head repeatedly against the wall beside him with a ferocity that could rival a house elf's. Instead he took a deep breath, refusing to look at the watch glaring accusingly up and him, and responded as evenly as he could:

"Personally I think you'd look more dashing without them. They're a bit stuffy, dress robes." Fred considered this remark, turning it over in his mind for what felt like an eternity before finally nodding.

"I suppose you're right," he responded.

"I usually am, being the smarter twin and all," George couldn't help stating. "Now let's go. The sooner we get down there the sooner you can see your fair maiden." The fact that Fred made no pass on his twin's comment proved just how out of sorts his mind really was, and it was with much apprehension that George led him out of their dormitory and down to the Quidditch pitch below.

…

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?" Oliver Wood's distinguished bellow echoed furiously around the Quidditch pitch with an intensity that could have woken the dead, and left George's ears ringing painfully in the aftermath.

"Er, unexpected complications," the redhead stated weakly, shooting a brief glance towards his twin who was staring intently up into the deserted stands surrounding the pitch. Wood spluttered incomprehensibly at him, appearing to have just been suddenly, and unexpectedly, kicked in the stomach.

"_Unexpected complications! _I'll accept nothing less than your _mother _dying as a valid excuse for being late!" he snapped, glowering at them furiously.

"It's ten minutes-" George began but was cut off by his raging captain.

"Ten minutes. TEN MINUTES! Do you realize what we could have accomplished in the ten minutes you two were off doing who knows what and- _WEASLEY WHAT DO YOU TIHNK YOU'RE DOING?" _Wood suddenly bellowed for Fred had chosen that moment to turn on his heel and begin walking in the opposite direction, back towards the looming castle in the distance. The young man paused, looking at Wood as though he had asked what color the sky was.

"Going to find Clotilda of course," was the prompt response. Silence followed this statement and George seriously wished he was in possession of his beaters club so he could bash himself over the head with it. Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia exchanged amazed looks, Harry's expression was one of extreme befuddlement, and Wood looked as though he had just swallowed something incredibly large and slimy.

"He's joking," George spoke up, grabbing Fred's arm before he could meander off again.

"No I'm-" Fred began though instantly clamped up, suddenly finding himself in too much pain to speak properly as his brother had just kicked him in the shins.

"Right, so what are we all standing around gaping at? Every minute lost is a minute that could cost us the cup, eh Oliver?" George stated, turning the older boy's words back on him with a grin. Wood's complexion purpled a bit and his fingers twitched involuntarily, as though he would like nothing more than to pull his wand from his robes and blast George into tiny, mute, pieces. Harry, sensing danger, quickly spoke up.

"Let's just start get started Wood, we're wasting time," he said hurriedly, glancing nervously from Oliver to George and back again. A rather strangled sound escaped their captain's throat, before he finally gave brief nod of his head and turned his back rather purposefully on the twins.

"Alright. Katie, Angelina, Alicia, I want to see crisp passes and accurate shooting today! You've been doing great job so keep it up! Harry…just catch the snitch," Oliver finished lamely, looking rather fondly at the firebolt clutched tightly in Harry's hand.

"No words of advice for us Oliver?" George asked brightly, one hand still gripping Fred's arm tightly.

"Yeah, get to the pitch on time," Angelina responded with a grin. Wood looked as though he could have kissed her.

…

Practice started off relatively smoothly following the initial confrontation between George and Oliver. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia seemed to have taken Wood's words to heart and were passing the Quaffle back and forth between themselves with magnificent speed and accuracy. Harry was a red blur as he shot around the pitch on his firebolt, the tiny golden ball barely standing a chance as he closed his fingers around it again and again. George couldn't help feeling rather confident himself as he intercepted a bludger that had been streaking towards Angelina, whacking it off course with a great swing from his club.

Grinning he turned to Fred, only to find that his twin had seemingly forgotten what his club was supposed to be used for. The boy was now flying in small circles about ten feet above George's head, twirling his bat absentmindedly and humming merrily to himself.

"What is he doing?" Angelina hissed, temporarily abandoning formation as she paused on her broomstick beside George. The redhead bit his lip.

"You know what I told Wood earlier about 'unexpected complications?'" he asked, watching as Fred began to perform great loop-de-loops on his broomstick.

"Yes," Angelina responded, her eyebrows slowly rising as a look of incredible foreboding crept across her features.

"Well…" George began though was cut off as Wood suddenly bellowed:

"Fred, George, Angelina! What part of _Quidditch Cup _don't you understand!"

"Sorry Oliver!" Angelina called before turning back to George. "We'll finish this conversation after practice. Try to do something about him!" And with that she sped off again, leaving George behind to deal with his twirling brother.

"Right," he muttered. "I'll just do that."

The rest of practice was nothing short of a disaster. George was having an increasingly difficult time with the two Bludgers zooming viciously around the pitch as Fred was proving about as useful as a toddler with a flyswatter. As a result his teammates found themselves nearly unseated by the destructive little blighters on more than one occasion, and it was only when Oliver narrowly missed being brained in the side of the head that he finally called a close to practice. George nearly had to pull Fred after him in order to get his twin to stop his flamboyant flying and return to the green grass below. Because of this they were the last two to dismount from their broomsticks, landing much more clumsily and awkwardly than what would have been considered normal. Wood waited for them to right themselves before clearing his throat and looking more than a little bit pained.

"Right well, interesting practice everyone. Hopefully next time there will be a little more focus and commitment shown from _some _of you," his eyes rested pointedly on Fred and George. "That's all; see you lot tomorrow."

His speech was unusually short, clearly a result of the abysmal flying session. George couldn't help feeling glad for it however, as he didn't know how much longer he'd have been able to keep Fred focused. The redhead was now looking extremely put out, probably due to Clotilda not actually showing up to their practice.

"She's probably just shy," he was muttering to himself, glancing around with a semi hopeful expression on his face as the two made their way back towards the castle. George rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to slam his forehead into his palm. Something had to be done as the young man was not sure how much longer he'd be able to tolerate this new, and unimproved, version of his twin.

"George!" Said twin blinked, glancing over his shoulder to where Angelina was jogging to catch up with them. He paused, keeping an eye on Fred who was still stumbling along crookedly a few paces ahead, and allowed the girl to fall into step beside him.

"Can I help you?" he inquired, allowing his mouth to fall into its usual lop-sided grin. It was Angelina's turn to roll her eyes.

"What's going on? What happened to Fred?" she asked bluntly, clearly awaiting an explanation. George let his grin fade, knowing Angelina too well to think she'd be bought off by some lame excuse. Taking a deep breath he launched into the story, beginning with their plans for Dunham and finally ending with the confused potion bottles and the unfortunate result.

"Love potion?" Angelina exclaimed incredulously, and George thought he saw a hint of amusement sneak into her eyes. The redhead shrugged, gesturing towards where Fred had pulled his wand from his robes and was now conjuring little heart shaped bubbles from its tip. "I'm amazed you got him to practice," the girl continued. George snorted.

"It wasn't easy, believe me," he replied with emphasis, recalling his brother's rather ludicrous dress robe comment.

"Why don't you go to Snape and ask for the antidote?" she inquired, prodding Fred in the back to get him moving again. George goggled at her.

"Snape?" he repeated in disbelief before shaking his head and returning his gaze to the path in front of them. "…And I thought Fred and I were the funny ones." The girl whacked him lightly over the head.

"I'm serious! Something needs to be done! You have no idea how old that potion was and the older it happens to be the longer it's going to last," she argued. "I mean, just _look _at him."

The boy glanced over to where his twin and finally ceased his bubble making, and instead donned a look of such genuine elation that George suspected him to begin turning cartwheels at any moment. A small, sadistic part of himself couldn't help wishing he had a camera handy as he was absolutely positive such an expression of grotesque sappiness would likely never again pervade the face of Fred Weasley.

"George?" Angelina questioned, snapping her fingers under his nose. The boy blinked, shaking himself and tearing his eyes from his brother's face.

"It's not like I'm going to leave him like that," he responded defensively. "But I draw the line at Professor Snivellus thank you very much."

"Then what are you planning to do?" Angelina asked in exasperation.

"Make the antidote of course," George answered, raising an eyebrow and grinning at her. The Chaser nearly decked him again.

"Oh, and I suppose you just happen to know how to go about doing that do you?" she asked grumpily. George's grin slid off his face to be replaced with a mournful expression and he sighed rather heavily.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he responded darkly. "I don't think I'll have much choice but to venture where no Weasley twin has gone before."

"And where's that?" Angelina asked, unable to prevent herself from playing along.

"The library," George replied pleasantly, shooting a glance towards his twirling twin. "The things I do for you mate…"

…

George hadn't been completely honest with Angelina as he and Fred had been inside the library before. Of course even these rare moments had never consisted of something quite as dramatic as one of them downing a love potion on accident mere hours before. Said love potion still had yet to show any sign of wearing off as Fred was looking just as dewy eyed as ever. He continued to stare widely around the passing corridors, craning his neck to look down hallways in blatant attempts to catch a glimpse of Clotilda.

Watching his brother nearly trip over himself in an attempt to look down a particularly narrow hallway, George rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. He had taken to holding his breath nervously whenever they rounded a corner, sure that any second Clotilda's face would loom out at them from behind a suit of armor or spring from within a concealed tapestry. This was, of course, ridiculous. He had no idea what the new Fred would do were he to actually see the girl of his fake dreams, yet he was willing to bet all of his savings he wouldn't like it.

Fortunately they reached the library with little incident and George found himself actually feeling a bit hopeful as they proceeded inside. Looming bookshelves and round wooden tables were scattered in every direction, the students milling carefully between them with impossibly large and tedious looking tomes stacked precariously in their arms. George let a low whistle escape his lips. He had absolutely no idea where to begin.

Madam Pince was looking at them suspiciously from behind the checkout counter, her paper-like lips having gone quite thin, eyes sparking with blatant displeasure. Several other students had glanced up from their studies and were now goggling at the twins as though they had never seen anything quite like them. George resisted the urge to laugh, suppressing the grin lurking behind his lips with difficulty. Obviously he and Fred's reputation proceeded them even throughout the other houses and no one in their right mind would believe the two were merely there for studious purposes.

George started forward figuring he might as well begin browsing somewhere, though paused when his eye was caught by an absolute mountain of books teetering dangerously a few feet away. The distinct sound of a quill scratching against parchment could be heard through the silence coating the library and, if George looked close enough, he could just distinguish a tuft of bushy brown hair poking out from behind the pile of text. Glancing behind him briefly to make sure Fred was still present, George set a light grin on his face and headed over to the owner of the bushy brown locks.

Hermione Granger was looking much more frazzled and distraught than George was used to seeing her, dark smudges beneath her eyes standing out against the girl's unusually pale skin. It had been awhile since he had seen her with Ron and Harry, and he wondered vaguely if it really was just her busy schedule that was keeping her away from the common room lately.

"Planning on reading the whole library before the season's out Granger?" George asked good-naturedly, shoving his hands into his robe pockets. Hermione glanced up briefly, looked back down at her work, gave a bit of a start, and stared up at him again.

"Oh, it's you two," she said shortly, and George couldn't help but notice she sounded every bit as drained as she looked. The redhead raised an eyebrow.

"Not the most enthusiastic greeting ever, but I suppose it's passable," he commented dryly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Amazed as I am that you two actually know where the library is, I really have a lot to get done so if you don't need anything…" she began, not glancing up from the large roll of parchment smoothed out in front of her. George opened his mouth to make a retort, realized now might not be the time to say something clever, and promptly closed it again. Beside him Fred had started to sway back and forth, humming a soft tune that sounded suspiciously like something he'd heard off his mother's radio around the holidays. It was largely due to this sudden development that George found himself opening his mouth and blurting:

"Actually, I could use a hand."

The sound of Hermione's quill scratching against the parchment ceased as she paused, her brow furrowing as she looked up at him again.

"What?" she repeated, clearly not sure she had heard the boy properly.

"Fred's gotten himself into a bit of an, er, situation," George began, watching Hermione's expression carefully.

"A situation," she repeated stiffly, cocking a brow and for the first time allowing her eyes to slide onto Fred.

"Love potion," George stated shortly. Hermione stifled a snort, a glitter of amusement flashing briefly through her tired eyes.

"Who's the lucky girl?" she asked and George had the rather strong suspicion that she was enjoying this.

"Clotilda Ackley. More of a lucky troll really," he responded with a roll of his eyes. Hermione's mouth dipped in the hint of a frown.

"That's _not _very nice you know," she told him in a tone that would have made Molly Weasley proud. George snorted.

"Neither was slipping Fred a bloody love potion."

Hermione shook her head, clearly giving up on reprimanding the Weasley twin.

"Well most of the potions books are over there," she told him, pointing towards a large section of shelves situated a few feet from Madam Pince's desk. "Love potion is rather common so the antidote shouldn't be hard to find."

"Right," George responded. "Thanks Granger." He turned and took a step towards the indicated area though paused as Madam Pince caught his eye, wearing a look of severe disapproval. The redhead shot her a winning grin before turning back to Hermione, setting his hands on the table top, and muttering:

"Do you think you could watch _him _for a few minutes?" he asked, jerking his head in Fred's direction. Hermione blinked at him.

"Watch him?" she repeated. George nodded.

"Just keep him quiet until I find the antidote. I don't care what you have to do, hit him over the head with one of those textbooks if you have to," he told her, gesturing towards the large Arithmancy book lying open on the table in front of her. The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Honestly! This is absolutely ridiculous," she hissed, yet her shoulders had slumped in defeat and George knew his case was won.

"You're a doll Hermione," he murmured, shooting her a wink and a grin before heading towards the shelves of potion books. A quick glance behind him revealed the bushy haired girl standing and attempting to usher Fred into a chair at the table with little success. George winced. He'd better make this fast.

The boy let his eyes rove over the various book bindings displayed on the shelf in front of him, searching for anything that appeared even slightly useful. Many of the texts looked incredibly old, what with their faded covers and yellowing pages, a fact that made it rather difficult to decipher what the titles were. More than once George found himself actually removing a book from the shelving in order to get a proper look at it, all the while conscious of Madam Pince's watchful glare boring into his back.

He was just reaching for _Abacuck's Antidotes for all Occasions _when there was a sudden crash from behind him, followed by a rather strangled yell and another alarming thud. George whirled around and his stomach plummeted into his shoes faster than Goyle could inhale treacle tart.

Hermione's carefully stacked mountain of books had been knocked sideways and were now lying open and scattered all over the floor below. One of the fallen texts had upset her inkbottle and the dark liquid was now oozing freely across her nearly completed essay and dripping onto her black robes. Fred had leapt to his feet, apparently jarring the table in the process and sending the pile of tomes crashing down around Hermione's ears. It took George less than a second to figure out why. Clotilda Ackley had just entered the library.

Fred started forward, barely glancing at the mess he'd made of Hermione's table in his rush to reach the blonde. Cursing his luck George dropped the text and sprinted towards his twin, pointedly ignoring Madam Pince's protesting squawks in his haste to close the distance between himself and Fred. Apparently forgetting that magic was an option George threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around his brother's middle and sending them both flying into a table where a bunch of Hufflepuff second years had been studying Herbology. The group leapt to their feet with shrieks of surprise as more spell books and parchment went flying in every direction. An ink bottle rolled from the abused table and smashed into the ground, shattering instantly and spilling blue liquid all over Fred's robes.

"WHAT-THE-BLOODY-HELL-ARE-YOU-DOING!" Fred roared, fighting to free himself from the death grip George had around his waist. "She's _right there!" _

"Trust me," George grunted. "You'll-_oof- _thank me-_ow_-later!" But right at that moment Fred's elbow made contact with George's face and there was a loud cracking sound as George's nose broke, spraying blood everywhere. The redhead hissed in pain, his grip on the struggling Weasley unconsciously loosening which was all Fred needed to jerk himself free and leap to his feet before striding confidently towards a staring Clotilda.

"Hello beautiful," he said, winking and smiling at her in a fashion that reminded George sickeningly of Gilderoy Lockhart. Clotilda gaped at him, her cheeks turning such a brilliant shade of red they could have given the Weasley's hair a run for its money. Right at that moment however, an absolutely livid Madame Pince finally succeeded in making her way through the chaos of scattered spell books and overturned ink jars and was now glaring at them with a look of pure venom. A wave of her wand sent the mishandled tomes floating into neat piles on the table tops, righted and repaired the ink bottles, and rid the carpet of any bloodstains from George's broken nose.

"Erm…" he began awkwardly, getting to his feet and noting with slight amusement that Fred had yet to notice the enraged woman behind him. The entirety of the boy's attention was still fixed firmly on Clotilda whose face was glowing redder than ever. Complexion of a tomato indeed.

"OUT!" Madame Pince shrieked. "GET-OUT-_NOW!" _George didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing for Fred's arm he attempted to drag him towards the door yet Fred didn't budge. Instead he turned to Madame Pince, his expression one of utmost distaste.

"Could you please not yell like that?" he asked. "It's making conversation rather difficult." If George's nose hadn't been in so much pain he'd have smacked a palm to his face. Madame Pince on the other hand, looked as though she might begin breathing fire at any moment.

"_I beg your pardon!" _she snarled, steam nearly bursting from her ears.

"I said-" Fred began but was cut off as a bushy head of brown hair had suddenly appeared in front of him and the next thing George knew Hermione Granger had pulled her wand from within her robes, pointed it at his twin and said:

"_Stupefy_!" A jet of red light shot out of the end of the brunette's wand and hit Fred square in the chest, his eyes widening briefly in surprise before he crumpled. George stepped forward and caught him before he hit the ground, his nose throbbing most uncomfortably in the process. Madame Pince spluttered, her mouth opening and closing as she stared in shock at Hermione who swallowed.

"He's not well," she said quickly. "We were just about to take him to the hospital wing." The librarian's lips thinned and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Hermione returned her gaze calmly despite the fact she had just lied through her teeth to the woman in front of her. Madame Pince finally shook her head, fixing George with a look so chilling, an actual shiver ran down his spine.

"Well get off to the hospital wing then," she said tartly. "But I will be speaking to Professor McGonagall about your absolutely detestable behavior! Don't think you'll get away without punishment!" George resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the head of Gryffindor house would not be pleased to hear about their most recent bout of chaos, especially considering they'd already been in her office earlier that morning. With a neat flick of her wand Hermione summoned her bag and various spell books from her now vacated table, shifting them to one arm so she could help George support his twin's limp weight. The young man shot Clotilda a particularly frosty glare as they passed by and the blonde swallowed, looking nervously from Fred to George and back again. She looked like she wanted to say something though paused at the expression on George's face, nerves clearly getting the better of her. Without a backwards glance the two passed Clotilda by, stepped out of Madam Pince's wrathful glare, and into the fourth floor corridor

"That was her by the way," George said dully as they left the library behind them. "Clotilda." The corner of Hermione's lips turned in the hint of a smile.

"Yes I thought it must be," she replied. "Fred's reaction was a bit of a giveaway." George snorted and immediately winced, his grip on his brother slipping as he brought his hand back to his nose. Hermione bit her lip.

"Let's find an empty classroom so I can get that fixed up," she said crisply, shifting the hold she had on Fred to adjust to the added weight. "And I'm sorry by the way." George frowned.

"For what?"

"For stunning him," Hermione answered rather sheepishly. "It's just, he was going to get himself into even deeper trouble with Madame Pince and I didn't think she would be too understanding about the love potion…" To the girl's surprise a grin actually broke out on George's face.

"Well I did say you could hit him over the head if you had to and this kind of had the same effect. Might hit him over the head myself though, once he's back to normal that is. You know, to make me feel better about this whole mess," the boy commented dryly, gesturing again to his nose that was still seeping blood like a leaky faucet. Hermione nodded, wincing sympathetically.

"Come on, let's try this one," she said, gesturing towards a classroom on their right. The door stood slightly ajar and no voices could be heard emanating from within signifying occupancy. George wedged his foot into the small space and promptly widened the gap between the door and the wall, allowing he and Hermione to awkwardly shuffle Fred inside. They carefully lowered the boy to the ground, making sure he was leaning stably up against the wall before taking a step back. Another drop of blood seeped between George's fingers and dripped onto the floor, just missing Fred's left shoe.

"I can take care of that if you'll let me," Hermione offered, pulling her wand from her robes and peering up at him. George grinned and put his hands up in a gesture of mock defeat.

"If you feel you must," he responded. The girl nodded and George found himself going rather cross-eyed as he stared at the wand that was now pointing rather disconcertingly between his eyes.

"This will sting a bit," she warned. The redhead nodded, bracing himself as Hermione gave her wand another little flick and said: "_Episkey!_" With a crack like a whip his nose snapped back into place and it took all of George's self control to keep himself from swearing loudly. Scrunching up his face he gingerly brought his fingers to his nose and dabbed at it, looking rather relieved to find that the blood flow had finally stopped.

"Appreciate that," he told her gratefully and the girl beamed at him. There was a quiet moment as the two turned in unison to stare silently at the stunned Weasley twin at their feet.

"It might be easier if he stayed this way until the antidote is made," Hermione suggested slowly. George however, shook his head.

"I'm not leaving him like this no matter how much of a bloody pain he's going to be when he wakes up," he responded with a tone of finality. The girl nodded, looking almost relieved at his answer. Without another word she raised her wand again, this time pointing it at Fred.

"_Rennervate_," she murmured. For a moment nothing happened and George felt a stab of concern before his brother suddenly twitched and opened his eyes, blinking rather dazedly at the two peering down at him. This confusion did not last long however as a moment later the boy had leapt to his feet, his brown eyes darting wildly around the room.

"Where's Clotilda!" George swallowed a groan.

"Not here," he answered shortly. Fred looked as though he wanted to protest though paused suddenly and peered at Hermione as though seeing her for the first time.

"Didn't you two… didn't you stun me?" he asked slowly.

"It was for your own good," Hermione spoke up and George was about to tell her that logic really wasn't going to work with Fred at the moment when she continued. "I mean look at yourself. You're completely covered in ink stains and blood, your hair is a mess, and, and you've got smudges on your shoes!" George's eyebrows rose and he shot Hermione a look of extreme amusement. Her cheeks flushed a bit yet she proceeded to ignore him, determinedly avoiding his eyes. Fred frowned and slowly looked himself over.

"That's true…" he trailed off. Hermione crossed her arms.

"Of course it's true! You're not going to impress anyone looking like that, much less Clotilda," she said to him. "Obviously I didn't want you to cause any lasting damage. Let's go back to the common room and you can get yourself cleaned up all nice for her, how does that sound?" Fred mulled this over for a minute, his eyes dropping again to the blue and red stains smeared messily across his robes. Finally, with a great sigh, he nodded his head.

"Yeah okay, yeah let's do that," he answered, his face taking on that strangely vacant expression once more. Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief and smiled at Fred, a gesture that went unnoticed by the Weasley twin as his humming had started anew.

"So, any particular reason you're helping us out so much?" George asked her, once they'd returned to the corridor and started back in the direction of Gryffindor tower. "I thought your nose had been permanently glued to those books of yours." Hermione shrugged.

"I figured it would probably be bad, even for you two, to land yourselves in so much trouble again after what happened earlier today," she said. The redhead blinked at her, thinking back to the dung bombs and fireworks incident of that morning.

"You know about that?" he inquired. Hermione actually laughed.

"George the whole school knows about that," she replied shortly. "And it's been rather lonely ever since-" but she immediately cut herself off, a definite flush darkening her cheeks. George raised an eyebrow, reminded again of the empty places on either side of her where Harry and Ron usually stood. He opened his mouth to inquire on this odd change though paused as Hermione's lips had gone incredibly thin, her eyes trained determinedly on the floor. It was obvious that any questions George might have regarding this particular matter would be left unanswered.

The remainder of the walk to Gryffindor tower was mercifully uneventful, though both George and Hermione continued to keep a sharp eye out for any sign of Clotilda. The two needn't have worried as they reached the portrait hole without incident and clambered gratefully inside, glancing around briefly at the various Gryffindor students lounging on the squashy armchairs within. Harry and Ron were sitting at a table near the fireplace, long pieces of parchment spread out in front of them, both wearing incredibly disgruntled expressions. Ron glanced up as the portrait hole swung shut behind them, his eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Hermione. George saw her go rather pink and she immediately dropped her gaze and mumbled:

"Wait here, I'll be right back." Keeping her eyes glued to the floor she scurried away from them and instead up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, disappearing from view in a matter of seconds.

"Oh here we go," George muttered to himself as Ron shoved his chair back and stood, crossing the dormitory in a few short strides, his face darkening peevishly.

"So she's gone crying to you two now that we've stopped talking to her, eh?" the boy inquired coldly, glowering down at the pair of them. George shook his head, annoyance seeping into his stomach like spilled ink. Fred on the other hand, was paying his younger brother no mind at all as he had become rather fascinated with the bright flames dancing merrily in the fireplace.

"Wrong as usual, little brother," George responded pleasantly. "I asked for her help." Ron frowned.

"With wh-what happened?" he asked suddenly, having finally noticed the dried blood beneath George's nose and Fred's rather stained robes. George released a dramatic sigh and spread his arms wide.

"The dangers of being popular Ronald, maybe one day you'll understand," he responded wickedly. "Until then would you mind clearing off? We've got some stuff we have to get done." Ron glowered at him though before he could say anything Fred spoke up, his voice as airy as a helium balloon.

"Right, well I'm off to fix my hair," and without a backwards glance he padded over to the spiral staircase and disappeared up it before either of them could blink. Ron gaped after him, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he asked in astonishment and George didn't think his brother could have looked more surprised if Filch started handing out Christmas cookies. His little brother went ignored however, as George had suddenly found himself in a rather awkward predicament. Hermione had asked them to wait there and he had no doubt she had gone to fetch some type of useful spellbook since he'd been unable to attain one in the library. At the same time he was more than a little weary about leaving Fred by himself in his current condition as he was sure no good could come of it.

Fortunately Hermione chose that moment to reappear, confirming George's suspicions as a rather large tome was clutched tightly in her arms. The girl paused uncomfortably upon seeing Ron, yet the redhead merely scowled and skulked back over to Harry without another word to either of them. It seemed that his annoyance with Hermione overcame his curiosity about his brother's strange behavior.

The girl watched Harry and Ron rather sadly for a moment before shaking her head and turning back to George. Frowning she glanced around.

"Where's Fred?" she inquired. The Weasley grinned a bit nervously.

"About that. Would you mind waiting for just a moment?" and, without waiting for an answer, he hurried up the spiraling staircase to the boys dormitory. Fred was standing at the end of his four poster bed, a silver comb clenched tightly in his hand as he ran it through his hair over and over again.

"Alright there Freddie?" George asked nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets and raising a brow. Fred gave a slight nod of his head.

"Just, you know, trying to look nice," he responded lazily. George nodded his head.

"Uh-huh. Well I think you've done a bang up job and should come back to the common room now. Hermione's, er, got some news on Clotilda," he improvised, for once glad that Fred was too mussed in the head to detect the blatant lie.

"Has she really?" the boy inquired, pausing in his hair brushing to turn and look at George excitedly. "Excellent, I'll be right down." Running the brush through his hair one more time Fred gave a satisfied nod before setting it down on his bed and turning back to George. He had changed out of his stained robes and had instead donned a rather horrible looking blue dress shirt George hadn't even known he'd owned. The brilliant cerulean clashed spectacularly with his flaming red hair. Yet there was nothing for it; the sooner they returned Fred to normal the sooner George could burn that awful shirt.

The two headed out the door and back down the stairs, George determinedly swallowing the persistent snickers threatening to overflow due to his twin's ridiculous wardrobe selection. Hermione was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, clearly doing her best to glance everywhere but at the table where Ron and Harry were sitting. She looked most relieved to see the twins making their way back down the steps toward her though she did raise an eyebrow at Fred's clothing choice.

"So, what have you got to tell me then, eh?" said absurdly dressed twin asked, looking at Hermione almost anxiously. The girl blinked.

"Er-"

"You know, about Clotilda," George quickly broke in, shooting Hermione a wink behind Fred's back. A light bulb seemed to go on over girl's bushy head for she quickly nodded, shooting Fred an easy grin.

"Oh, just that she's down in the dungeons near the potions room," she remarked quickly. "I heard she was looking for you."

"Let's go then shall we?" Fred exclaimed and, not waiting to see if they were following him or not, promptly headed towards the portrait hole. George and Hermione fell into step behind him, sliding back into the corridor and making sure to keep Fred well within eyeshot.

"So what's the plan?" George hissed inquiringly. The girl had opened the large book and now had her nose buried deeply inside it, eyes scanning rapidly over the yellowed pages.

"Well, the antidote is actually quite simple. All we really have to do is get the ingredients from the student's stores in the dungeon as they should all be there," she responded, snapping the book closed and smiling over at him. George let a whoosh of air escape his lungs as he nodded his head, relieved that this whole escapade might finally be coming to a close.

"And what might those ingredients consist of?" the boy asked, trailing off and looking at Hermione expectantly.

"Wiggentree twigs, castor oil, and extract of a Gurdyroot," she responded matter of factly, giving her bushy brown hair a toss. "And then it'll just be a matter of mixing the potion itself-"

"Which we're going to do where?" George interrupted. "The common room isn't exactly discreet." Hermione bit her lip and paused for a moment, clearly turning an idea of some sort over in her mind.

"Well, last year Harry, Ron, and I used Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to brew Polyjuice Potion without being detected. If you really wanted to be secretive about it we could always go there," she suggested slowly, clearly unsure of how he would react to this bit of news. George's eyebrows had indeed risen very high upon his forehead, though he didn't immediately shoot her idea down which Hermione decided to take as a good sign.

"Well, Fred and I seem to have been everywhere else in this school. Why not add a girl's toilet to the list?" he finally stated, and Hermione couldn't help but notice he looked rather excited at the prospect. Shaking her head she turned her eyes back to Fred who was traipsing along the corridor in front of them, ignoring the many odd looks he was receiving from passing students. Hermione swallowed.

"Maybe we should have brought him a change of clothes," she said softly. George shook his head.

"After all the hell he's put me through today going back to the common room looking like a flaming blueberry is the least he can do."

…

It was decidedly colder in the dungeons and the only one of the trio who didn't seem to be feeling the chill was Fred who was glancing around him anxiously, obviously confused as to why Clotilda was not where Hermione said she'd be.

"She'll be along," the brunette reassured him as the boy opened his mouth to protest. "Probably making her way down as we speak…"

George knelt onto the frigid dungeon floor and slid back the door to the cupboard, peering down at the various ingredients stored within. He had to hand it to Snape for if nothing else at least the man was organized. Jars of varying occupancies were lined neatly inside the cupboard, each labeled and stored in precise alphabetical order allowing George to find what he was looking for in a matter of minutes. He was just reaching for the Wiggentree Bark when an unexpected voice from behind nearly caused him to upset several of the neatly placed jars.

"Well this is an unusual combination indeed. Mind telling me what exactly it is you need from the stores at this hour?" George pulled his head out of the cupboard and twisted around to see Professor Snape standing directly behind Hermione, hands folded deep inside his black robes, cold black eyes staring piercingly at the pair of them.

"W-well you see," Hermione began, and George could see her mind whizzing one hundred miles per hour behind her chocolate eyes. Snape raised an eyebrow inquiringly, glaring down his hooked nose at the brown haired girl.

"Yes…?"

Hermione swallowed.

"I-I came across a new type of antidote while reading earlier today and, well, I thought it might be p-prudent to practice it a bit just to, you know, have a head start for the future," she said quickly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. The potions master stared at her, his expression remaining as stony and emotionless as ever.

"And you needed Mr. Weasley's assistance in order to go about doing this…practicing… did you?" he asked coolly, his black eyes moving to rest chillingly on George.

"I didn't think I'd be able to carry all the ingredients back to Gryffindor Tower," Hermione replied, giving the large spell book in her hands a quick nod. Something of a sneer broke out onto Snape's pallid face and his eyebrow, if possible, rose even higher.

"I daresay a _witch_ of your particular caliber would be quite hard pressed to find a way to carry three potions ingredients and a book all that way," he commented, sarcasm rolling off his tone in waves. His eyes returned to George. "Feeling unusually generous today are we Weasley?" The boy shrugged, slipping the Wiggentree Bark from its jar before screwing the lid back on and returning the ingredient to the cupboard.

"Yes as a matter of fact," he replied shortly, sliding the cupboard door closed and getting to his feet. "Just because Fred and I have a brilliant aptitude for trouble doesn't mean we can't be helpful when we want to be."

"Clearly." The frown returned to Snape's face and his dark eyes slid in a scrutinizing manner over the various items clasped in George's arms. "Remind me, what antidote did you say the two of you were _practicing_ again, Miss Granger?" he asked slowly, though George would have bet his right ear that Snape already knew the answer. An expression of utmost concern had suddenly blossomed across Hermione's face however and she suddenly whispered:

"The _two _of us…?"

George's stomach plummeted and he quickly glanced behind Snape, a feeling of utmost dread uncurling from within him. Sure enough, the spot where his twin had stood only minutes before was now completely deserted.

"Oh bloody hell…" the redhead swore and he promptly bolted past the potion's master and out the door. He knew running away from Snape when he was in a mood was equivalent to requesting a one way ticket to detention, yet at the moment he had bigger things to worry about. Hopefully Hermione, as clever as she was, would find some way to appease the professor before slipping away herself. Tightening his grip on the precious ingredients in his hand, George flew around the next corner, nearly bowling over a group of Slytherins in the process, and hurtled down the corridor. Fred couldn't have gotten that far, could he?

The temperature climbed mercifully as he left the dungeons behind him, soothing the goose bumps from his arms quicker than his sudden sprint had. Dodging past two Hufflepuff first years he careened into the Entrance Hall and skidded to an abrupt halt, feeling as though the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. There was Fred, standing directly in the center of the floor, a large smile on his face as he recited original poetry at the top of his lungs. Even as George watched a new poem was begun much to the amused delight of several onlookers who had gathered to watch the spectacle.

"There once was a girl named Clotilda…"

Though what Fred had found to rhyme with 'Clotilda' George never found out for right at that moment his attention was drawn to the Grand Staircase where Professor McGonagall could be seen making her way purposefully downward towards them.

"Of course," George muttered to himself. "Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse." Professor McGonagall stopped at the foot of the stairs, her gaze sliding from Fred who now had his arm outstretched in some ridiculous Shakespearian pose, to George who looked as though he had just swallowed a live flubberworm. The corner of her mouth twitched downward in the hint of a frown and she wasted no time wading through the giggling students to stand beside George, a look of utmost exasperation on her face.

"I don't believe I've ever seen the pair of you _not _surrounded by a large crowd of twittering students. Why is that Mr. Weasley?" she asked in a rather stiff manner.

"Charisma?" George answered weakly. Professor McGonagall huffed but made no further comment on the matter, her expression all business.

"Your detentions have been decided," she told him, raising her voice to speak over the students laughter as Fred had just done a ridiculous looking twirl to conclude his recent bout of poetry. George couldn't help but wonder if any of them had figured out that his twin was doing all of this in an act of utmost seriousness. He hoped, for Fred's sake, that they hadn't.

"Is that understood, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall's sharp voice yanked him from his thoughts and dumped him rather rudely back into reality.

"Er, sorry Professor, didn't quite catch that," he answered, tearing his gaze away from Fred and returning it to the woman standing beside him. Professor McGonagall very nearly rolled her eyes but restrained herself just in time.

"You, Mr. Weasley, shall be polishing telescopes on the Astronomy tower at 8:00 tomorrow night _without _the use of magic. The other Mr. Weasley," McGonagall continued, nodding her head in Fred's direction, "will be helping Madame Pince alphabetize and reshelf various spell books in the library tomorrow night, also at 8:00. Now I hope I have made myself clear because I will not be repeating it again."

"Crystal clear Professor," George assured her, vaguely amused by the fact that she had referred to both he and Fred as 'Mr. Weasley,' obviously due to her inability to tell which was which. Some things, it seemed, never got old.

"What _is_ your brother doing, if I may be so bold as to ask?" Professor McGonagall inquired, her eyes returning to Fred with a look of both amusement and slight concern. George sighed, delicately sliding the potions ingredients into his robe pockets and thanking his lucky stars the woman hadn't mentioned them.

"Oh, Fred's just finding out the hard way that he doesn't quite have my whit and charm when it comes to wooing the ladies," he responded, rather nonchalantly. "But I'd say it's about time for the show to end. If you'll excuse me Professor…" For he'd just seen Hermione step curiously into the Entrance Hall, her eyes scanning nervously over the large crowd. George marched determinedly through the students, accidentally jostling a few harder than was comfortable, before breaking through the throng at last and grabbing his twin around the wrist.

"And that's Fred Weasley ladies and gentlemen! Thank you, he'll be here all year!" he called before turning and pulling Fred behind him back through the students who had begun to disperse disappointedly.

"What are you doing? I wasn't finished," Fred hissed indignantly at him.

"Yes you were," George responded shortly, catching Hermione's eye and hurrying over to her.

"What was he…?" the girl began though the redhead shook his head.

"You don't want to know," was his only response. Hermione gave him a brief, sympathetic smile before clearing her throat and heading towards the staircase.

"Right then, shall we go?" George nodded, more than ready to have his twin back to normal again. The two set off towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, quickly convincing Fred that after this final stop he'd be able to pursue Clotilda however he wished without interference from them. Even so the boy still looked rather sulky and George knew it was due to the abrupt interruption of his poetry session. And speaking of interruptions…

"How did you manage to get away from Snape?" the Weasley asked as the two stepped onto the second floor landing and started down the corridor towards the bathroom. Hermione snorted.

"I got a bit lucky actually. Apparently Lee Jordan had a detention buffing out dirty cauldrons or something and just happened to knock a bunch of them over right when Snape was getting particularly nasty," she responded with a brief shrug of her shoulders. "I managed to slip away in the resulting chaos." George let out a low whistle, glad that Hermione had given the potion's master the slip but unable to quench a feeling of deep sympathy for Lee. The next moment however his friend's fate was pushed from his mind as they had just arrived at the girl's toilet and Hermione was already reaching for the door. George hastily checked up and down the corridor for any sign of professors or prefects before following her inside, peering around him curiously.

The place was every bit as flushed out and decrepit as he had heard. The mirrors were cracked, the sinks were all chipped, and an unpleasant wetness had begun to seep into his shoes that George prayed was water. It was hard to believe that Salazar Slytherin had chosen this place as the entrance to his secret chamber. Maybe he'd had a meaningful experience in a girl's toilet at some point in his life…? George's musings were interrupted however as Fred chose that moment to speak up.

"Why are we in a _girl's _toilet?" His voice echoed loudly around the room's interior and a second later the pearly figure of a girl rose up from one of the cubicles and glared around accusingly at them all.

"Hello Myrtle," Hermione said, as pleasantly as is possible when speaking with an over-emotional ghost. Myrtle sniffed.

"Hullo," she responded dully, glancing from the brunette, to Fred, to George, and back again. "Harry's not with you today then?" Hermione shook her head, trying and failing to hide a look of utmost amusement.

"No, but he sends his regards," she lied and George hid a blatant snort with a rather forced cough. Myrtle glared beadily at him.

"And who might you be?" she asked sharply. "Your hair looks just like that other boy's that used to be in here all the time."

"George Weasley," George responded with a grin and a rather sweeping bow which seemed to please Myrtle for she blushed silver and dove back into her toilet with an almighty splash, giggling madly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Shall we?" she inquired, nodding her head in the direction of an empty stall.

"You know," George said as he followed her inside the cramped space, "this is probably one of the strangest things I've ever done."

"I seriously doubt that," Hermione responded, pulling a small cauldron from her robe pocket and tapping it with her wand. Immediately it returned to a workable size and she promptly shoved it into George's arms before pointing her wand at the toilet and starting a well contained fire within. Retrieving the cauldron, she set it down atop the flames and immediately opened the large spell book, tucking her hair behind her ears and poring over it's contents.

George watched the brunette dump the castor oil into the cauldron, knowing he should probably be feeling guilty about the girl doing all the work. At the same time he knew Fred wouldn't care who made the antidote as long as it was made well and Hermione wasn't the top of her class for nothing. Feeling much better about himself he leaned back against the stall's pasty wall, comforted by the fact that his twin would be back to normal within the hour.

Before too much longer the potion was simmering away pleasantly within the cauldron and Hermione gave a satisfied nod of her head, finally stepping away from the antidote and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.

"It should be ready," she said, turning to George with a smile. Digging a hand into her robes she withdrew a small vile and held it out to him encouragingly. The redhead couldn't help grinning at her and he wasted no time delicately plucking the little vial from her fingers and carefully dipping it into the simmering antidote. Once the flask was full George backed out of the stall and turned to Fred who was staring at himself in the mirror with a look of dazed fascination.

"Alright mate, drink up," George said, pushing the antidote into his brother's hands. The boy looked at it curiously.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Attractiveness potion," Hermione answered quickly, stepping out of the stall to stand beside George. "For the next hour or so Clotilda won't be able to keep her eyes off you, guaranteed!" Fred's eyes lit up and he carefully brought the potion to his lips.

"_Attractiveness potion_?" George hissed to Hermione, watching as Fred drained the liquid in one go. "I thought you were supposed to be clever."

"I made that antidote for you didn't I?" the brunette responded huffily, though George noticed a tinge of red had streaked her cheeks. Shaking his head he turned his eyes back to Fred, watching with baited breath for some sort of reaction. A moment passed where the boy merely stood confusedly with the vial clasped delicately in his hand. Then, quite suddenly, he gave his head a great shake, blinking furiously before slowly turning back towards George and Hermione. His eyes had lost their unfocused glaze, the clammy paleness had left his face, and a look of absolute horror was slowly beginning to creep over his features.

"Bloody hell…" he breathed. "What have I been-, you-, Quidditch practice-, Clotilda-!, oh _bloody hell_!" George nearly laughed at his twin's sudden inability to form a complete sentence, yet his relief and having him back to normal overrode the urge.

"You drank a love potion by mistake," Hermione explained, unable to hide a small smile of her own. "George has been running around all day trying to get you back to normal." Fred gave his head another shake, collapsing backwards against the sink and suddenly looking as pale as Nearly Headless Nick.

"Merlin's beard George, I actually recited poetry in front of the _entire _Entrance Hall! Why couldn't you find it in your heart to hit me over the head with something!" he exclaimed accusingly. George however, merely grinned at him.

"Payback mate. Couldn't just let you get away with breaking my nose now could I?" he asked, his tone taking on a rather wicked quality. Fred winced, looking unusually guilty.

"Er, about that. George I-" but George waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, closing the distance between them in two short steps and slinging his arm around his brother's shoulder.

"From now on just leave the cheesy poetry to Ginny and we'll call it even," he told him, suppressing a particularly distasteful shudder. Fred grinned.

"What and keep all this untapped talent locked away? I don't think so," he responded, winking cheekily in Hermione's direction. The girl rolled her eyes in false exasperation yet did nothing to suppress her resulting smile. Once their laughter had subsided George turned to the brunette as well, fixing her with a grin identical to the one on Fred's face.

"Thanks for all your help Granger," he said to her. Hermione blinked, clearly not used to being thanked for anything by the twins.

"Oh, well it wasn't-" she began, though was cut off again by George.

"And try not to worry so much about Ickle Ronniekins. Our dear younger brother's a bit of a prat but he'll come around," he told her. Hermione stared at him for a moment before a definite blush spread across her cheeks and she dropped her eyes to the tiled bathroom floor.

"A-alright," she responded in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Right," George continued, turning back to Fred and clapping his twin on the back. "Now Forge, if you please, would you mind a quick change of attire? If I have to look at myself wearing that shirt for another five minutes I'm going to throw myself off the astronomy tower…"

….

Life returned to a relative normal for the Weasley twins in the days that followed Fred's unfortunate mishap. Both boys served their detentions, a fact Fred found rather unfair as he felt drinking a love potion by mistake and dealing with the after effects was clearly punishment enough. The following day found the twins and Lee Jordan leaving a particularly exciting Defense Against the Darks Arts lesson when they were intercepted by Clotilda Ackley herself, looking rather red underneath her unkempt blonde hair. All three stopped dead in their tracks.

"Er," the girl began, speaking more to her shoes than any of the three in front of her. "I was wondering if I could talk to Fred alone? I wanted to, well, apologize for the other day…" Yet as George glanced over to see his twin's reaction to this new twist, he was met with empty space. Fred had already turned tail and was now flying as fast as he could down the corridor, scattering staff and students alike in his mad attempt to put as much distance between himself and Clotilda as possible.

"M-maybe next time," Lee managed to squeak, his eyes glittering with barely contained mirth. Only when they were sure they had left Clotilda behind them did the two burst into gales of laughter, trying and failing to think of a time when they'd ever seen Fred run faster.

…

**End! So I hope that everyone enjoyed! This one took a particularly long time to write as life kept getting in the way. I suppose that will happen though and hopefully it was worth it. **

**As for potions ingredients, I definitely just took the ones used from the HPB video game b/c I couldn't find the list of ingredients actually used for Love Potion on any of the resources I checked. So I just went w/ what I had xD **

**AND I wasn't entirely sure if students could go down to the student's stores for potions paraphernalia as they wished or if they were only allowed to use the ingredients in class. I kind of took liberties with that so hopefully it wasn't too unbelievable and if any of you know for sure if you wanted to drop me a line to confirm for future reference that would be appreciated! **

**In any case please review and let me know your thoughts and opinions! Much Love!**

**~Phoenix**


	4. A Need for Tea

**A/N: Been awhile hasn't it? Haha don't worry this story is still going despite the delays. This will be a more serious oneshot with some themes that will reoccur later on in future chapters. This chapter will be MUCH shorter than the ones previously but hopefully you'll still enjoy. **

**This takes place almost immediately after their return to the Burrow after the World Cup. Now without further ado…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

…

It was with a drowsy air that the ceiling of Fred Weasley's room came slowly into focus, sleep's warm blanket slipping just beyond the reach of his mind's grasping fingers. His eyes drifted lazily from the scorch marks decorating nearly every inch of he and George's bedroom, to the large pile of failed experiments pushed haphazardly into the back corner and out of the way, filling the room with the unmistakable scent of fresh gunpowder. They'd made a bit of a breakthrough the night before and had been too tired to properly dispose of the aftermath before falling into bed.

It had been a bit of a relief really, to finally slip away from their mother's watchful eye and escape into the relative chaos that was their bedroom. The whole business with the Dark Mark scare had occurred only the night before, yet the resulting strain on Mrs. Weasley had been clearly prevalent throughout the rest of the following day. Apparently it hadn't been enough to almost kill them with the vice-like hug she'd bestowed upon their safe return as afterwards, she'd not let the twins out of her sight for more than five minutes. Yet Fred supposed it was to be expected. Mrs. Weasley was a worrier by nature and their rather nasty argument of the previous day, mixed with the strenuous events of the World Cup, had clearly tipped her over the edge.

Fred sighed and rolled over so he was facing the bed opposite him, the rather large lump in the bed sheets the telltale form of a still sleeping George. The top of his twin's head was just visible poking out from beneath the blankets, a small smudge of soot still clinging stubbornly to his forehead. The two of them had exchanged a few words earlier that evening regarding the rather sinister ending to the World Cup, a conversation in which George had vented his worries and Fred had simply agreed with him. Though both boys weren't nearly on the level their mother was, to say they hadn't been unnerved by Voldemort's sign would be a good stretch of the truth. More than likely the mark had been the work of a few whiskey filled supporters having a good laugh. Yet even though he knew this, even though the alternative was too terrible to perceive, the fear had been real.

Swallowing in a failed attempt to dampen his dry throat Fred sat up, coming to terms with the fact that he'd have to get out of bed in order to manage the thirst that had suddenly gripped him. Shoving the blankets out of the way, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and quietly slipped off the mattress, doing his best to tiptoe across the floor to avoid waking George. Fred slid their door open and stepped out into the hallway, slinking silently from their bedroom and heading towards the stairs leading down to the kitchen. He had nearly reached the bottom when an unexpected clunk suddenly emanated from the dining room, causing him to freeze mid step and glance sharply in the direction of the offending noise.

The sound of liquid pouring into a cup came next followed by the scraping of a chair against the Burrow's aged flooring. Clearly Fred wasn't the only one awake at this odd hour. Curiosity piqued, the boy descended the rest of the steps before walking towards the sliver of light piercing the shadowy halls of the ground floor. Upon peering into the kitchen Fred was surprised to see Molly sitting at the table, a mug of hot tea in one hand, the other supporting her forehead.

"Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley jumped a foot in the air, a startled squeak issuing from her lips while her hand jerked involuntarily, sending hot liquid splashing over the mug's rim and across the table.

"Fred Weasley do not scare me like that!" she exclaimed, her hand pressed firmly to her chest in an attempt to calm her racing heart. The boy grinned at her before heading over to the cupboard and grabbing a glass from within.

"So are midnight tea breaks something you partake in often or is tonight just a special occasion?" Fred asked, taking his newly filled glass over to the table and dropping into the seat across from her. Molly's lips twitched in the hint of a smile but she shook her head, evaporating the spilled tea with a wave of her wand.

"No. I suppose I was just having a hard time sleeping," she responded, returning her forehead to her hand. Fred brought the water glass to his lips but raised an inquiring eyebrow, clearly waiting for her to go on. Catching his look Mrs. Weasley waved her hand dismissively, removing her forehead from her palm and shooting him a very thin smile.

"Really Fred dear, there's nothing for you to wo-"

"Mum."

Molly paused, the words dying on her lips as she took in the expression on her son's face. She gave a soft laugh in defeat.

"I suppose I'm not particularly convincing," she remarked quietly. Fred shrugged, setting his mug down on the tabletop and giving his mother a small grin.

"It's not that. I just happen to have an incredibly accurate ability to sense the ever fluctuating emotions of the female breed," he told her. "Of which you happen to be a member."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a rather pointed look before shaking her head, clearly too used to her son's retorts to be exasperated. Fred sighed and tried again.

"But honestly you've put me at a bit of a loss. Its come to my attention that if someone's gone and had a rough day the polite thing to is serve tea. Now you've already gone and done that for yourself which leaves me with naught to offer but a listening ear, if you'll take it."

As Molly stared at him, Fred couldn't help feeling silly and more than a bit out of his element. Hadn't he just been thinking about how refreshing it felt to be away from his mother's emotional tirades? Now here he was, willingly subjecting himself to the potential flood gates that were in danger of being reopened due to his words of blatant chivalry. Yet despite himself, something about seeing his mother looking so tired and, well, _old_ made it worth the risk. There was a moment of silence as Molly seemed to consider him, thoughts unreadable behind her eyes. Finally the woman's lips settled back into a smile and she spoke.

"Oh I suppose I'm just very lucky," she told him, reaching across the table and giving his hand a small squeeze. Fred frowned.

"Why might that be?" he inquired. Mrs. Weasley's eyes flickered briefly to the newspaper clipping still sitting on the counter top where the moving image of the Dark Mark could be seen presiding over the grounds of the World Cup.

"You were so young when You-Know-Who disappeared," the woman told him, staring fixedly into the tea in front of her. "But the times before that, as I know you are aware, were dreadful. I suppose it was just the thought that-" she broke off, her voice wobbling dangerously. Fred said nothing, his water mug sitting forgotten before him. Finally she tried again.

"I'm just very lucky the mark was not signifying the worst and that you all made it back alright," she finished. Yet despite her words and the smile on her face, Fred could tell she was still incredibly shaken. If nothing else the bags under her eyes were evidence to that. Silence stretched between them, Mrs. Weasley taking a sip of her tea and looking everywhere but at the Daily Prophet on the counter. Fred hesitated, not entirely sure what to say. He was again finding himself in a situation much better suited for Mr. Weasley, Ginny, or Bill. Heck even George had more sense than Fred when it came to actions of comfort. Unfortunately he was still snoozing away obliviously upstairs and wasn't bound to be much help any time soon. A moment later Mrs. Weasley had given her head a small nod, her chair creaking audibly as she stood and pushed it away from the table.

"Well, I'm off to bed," she stated, walking over to the sink and setting her mug down. "And you'd best head up soon too. I want that de-gnoming done before lunch." A scrubber immediately leapt up from the countertop and began to furiously wash away any trace of lukewarm tea remaining in the dirty cup. Mrs. Weasley leaned down and planted a swift kiss on the top of her son's head before she straightened up again, turning and heading for the open hallway and the ascending stairs.

"Mum none of us are going anywhere-er-anytime soon that is," Fred suddenly blurted out, standing and hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. Merlin's balls he was bad at this. "So really, you don't have to worry so much." Mrs. Weasley paused, turning to look at him with a slightly startled expression on her face. Clearly she hadn't expected his outburst any more than he had. Unusually tongue tied Fred shrugged his shoulders, hoping he'd gotten his point across because any more cheesy lines like that might just kill him.

He turned to place his mug beside Mrs. Weasley's now sparkling clean one and upon turning back nearly ran his mother over. Without him noticing, the woman had managed to move silently across the floor and was now standing directly in front of him.

"Wha-" but before he'd even finished his sentence Mrs. Weasley had flung her arms around his neck, the fabled water works let loose in all their glory onto Fred's shoulder.

"Mum I can't breathe…" said twin wheezed but his mother ignored him, clearly content to strangle her son as long as it meant keeping her grip on him. Fred hesitated then sighed, defeated, and raised one hand to awkwardly pat the woman's back.

"It's alright mum, I'm right here," he mumbled with what little breath he had left. "I'm not going anywhere." Mrs. Weasley tightened her grip on him and sobbed all the harder.

…

**So I realize this chapter was incredibly short however it is sort of important for a chapter that happens near the end of this series. Plus I love Molly's relationship with her children and, though the twins are a definite cause of headaches for the poor woman, she clearly loves them greatly all the same. **

**Writing Fred in a more comforting environment is, again difficult. This time it was even trickier b/c I didn't have George there for him to work off of. Hopefully it turned out alright however, and he wasn't too terribly out of character. Next chapter is bound to contain more length and much more laughs! Let me know what you think! Thanks a bunch!**

**~Phoenix**


	5. Regarding Priorities

**A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter is basically Fred and George's story of what happened during their Yule Ball experience. It will definitely be a lot more light hearted than the previous chapter so hopefully you will enjoy! Thanks a bunch!**

…

Fred and George made their way up Hogwarts' winding corridors in the direction of the Owlery, broad grins spread wide across both of their faces, an extra spring added to Fred's usual strolling gait.

"Did you see Ronniekins' face?" he asked for the thousandth time since they'd left Gryffindor Tower. George nodded, his grin widening as Fred broke into another round of enthusiastic laughter.

"I think you surprised Angelina just as much though mate," George stated, thinking back to the incident in the common room. "I doubt she expected to be asked to the ball like _that_." Fred shrugged his shoulders, rounding a corner in the hallway and continuing down the corridor, walking backward so he could see his twin.

"Still said yes though didn't she?" he responded, narrowly avoiding an inconveniently placed suit of armor with a swiftly executed sidestep. George grinned, his twin's excitement contagious.

"That she did mate."

The temperature took a definite plunge the closer the two got to the Owlery and by the time they reached the circular room's drafty interior, both boys were shivering with cold.

"You'd think, this being a school for _wizards_," George began, having difficulty speaking through his chattering teeth, "that they would have found someway to heat it up by now." Fred snorted his agreement, stepping precariously over a fresh splash of owl droppings and making his way cautiously through the straw. After a few near misses involving regurgitated rodent skeletons and hidden patches of ice, Fred reached a perch where several school owls were nestled and glanced up at them expectantly, pulling a concealed envelope from within the pocket of his robes and holding it outward.

"Alright, which of you lovelies wants to go on a little trip?" he asked, eyes trailing from one bird to another. The owls peered down at the boy though none made any move to assist him. On the contrary one of the group, a rather proud looking eagle owl, turned around completely in a gesture of superior disdain, hooting dismissively down at the boy. Fred scowled at it.

"Little shite," he muttered. The owl gave an indignant screech, released a generous amount of droppings on the ground at Fred's feet, and took off to find a higher perch.

"Fetching, that one."

George had obstacle coursed his way across the room to stand beside his twin and was now tempting a large screech owl with a crumbling treat held delicately between his fingers. He shrugged upon seeing Fred's raised eyebrow.

"Bummed them off Ron when he wasn't looking," he stated in response to the unasked question. The owl hooted happily, snapping the treat up in his beak before extending his leg for Fred. The boy attached the letter and the twins stepped back as the bird took off, beating the air with its wings and heading towards the snow covered window.

"Think Bagman'll actually respond to this one?" George asked once the owl had vanished beyond the frosty hills. Fred shrugged, turning and beginning to pick his way back across the straw strewn ground.

"If he doesn't we'll have to think of other methods," he replied darkly. "Seems being polite only goes so far." George frowned at him but before he could reply his foot hit a concealed patch of ice and he pitched backwards, the floor rising up to meet him at an alarmingly quick rate. With an audible splat he hit the ground, his right hand landing in something wet and gooey, his left on a patch of frozen straw. Fred whirled around and couldn't help the grin that melted onto his lips when he saw George pull his hand out of a particularly large pile of owl dung, a look of utmost repulsion on his face.

"Eugh…" he groaned, getting to his feet and staring at his hand with a disgusted grimace. Fred burst into gales of roaring laughter, ducking quickly as George took a swipe at him with the offended limb.

"Better go and wash that off mate," Fred choked, a smirk still dancing on his lips. "Even with your good looks you won't be able to pick up a date with _that _all over you." George scowled at him, using some of the cleaner patches of straw to wipe the worst of the waste off his hand.

"Suddenly a genius in the ways of women are we?" he asked shortly, holding his hand awkwardly to the side to avoid further sullying his robes. Fred grinned wickedly.

"Remind me Georgie, which of us has a date to the ball?" he asked, allowing his twin to fall into step beside him as they made their way back down the spiraling staircase. It took every ounce of George's self restraint to stop himself smearing the remainder of the owl poo all over his brother's robes.

….

The two parted ways upon nearing the Fat Lady's portrait, Fred to return to the common room and George to stop by the loo and clean the rest of the dung from his hand. Using about five times the normal amount of soap, George allowed the hot water to wash over his skin, stream through his fingers and remove any leftover droppings from his hand. He supposed, now he thought about it, that a scouring charm might also have done the trick. Yet excess usage of soap had left a rather pleasant lemony scent on his hand, something he wasn't sure the little charm would have supplied.

Exiting the toilet he turned in the direction of the common room, Fred's earlier words turning over in his mind. _Remind me Georgie, which of us has a date to the ball? _As much as he hated to admit it, his twin had brought up a good point. He didn't have a date to the ball yet and, unless he acted soon, all the good ones would be taken. _They're just girls_, George found himself thinking, _I've never been afraid of talking to them before. Why should this be any different?_ Yet different it was and he couldn't help but wonder if he should just follow his brother's example and shout at the next girl he came across.

Voices reached his ears as he stepped around the next bend in the corridor and he paused as Katie Bell and a rather large Hufflepuff boy came into view. George frowned as he looked at the Hufflepuff, not recognizing his large girth, squashy nose, and acne strewn face.

"I've seen you play Quidditch," the boy was saying, taking a step closer to Katie. George couldn't help thinking that his voice possessed multiple troll-like qualities: deep, gruff, and stupid. "And you play just as good as you look." The redhead's eyebrow rose. _That _was the best this nutter could come up with?

"Er, thank you," Katie squeaked, clearly very uncomfortable with the situation.

"So uh," the Hufflepuff continued, taking yet another step closer to Katie. "Would you go to the ball with me?" Even from where he was standing George saw the girl's face flush, her cheeks as crimson as his hair.

"W-well I…" she began, her eyes darting around for some type of escape route. The Hufflepuff frowned.

"Has someone already asked you?" he inquired, a pudgy hand rising to scratch at a pimple sitting on his nose. If possible, Katie flushed darker.

"I, well n-"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, she does." Katie jumped and the Hufflepuff blinked stupidly. The pair turned towards George, who had spoken, identical looks of surprise on their faces. It was the Hufflepuff who recovered first.

"It's you then is it?" he inquired, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling irritably. George shot him a winning grin, slinging an arm over Katie's shoulders and pulling her into him.

"That's right," he responded. "Katie and I are just _mad _for each other, aren't we love?" Katie gave a mystified squeak which George decided to take as a yes, plowing on before she could form a coherent sentence. "So better luck next time mate."

And, before the befuddled Hufflepuff could respond, George turned on the spot and led Katie off in the direction of the Fat Lady's portrait. It wasn't until they were around the corner and safely out of the other boy's sight that he released his hold on his teammate's shoulders, granting her full control of her body.

"Owe me a butterbeer for that one Bell," the redhead stated, grinning knowingly at her. Katie shook her head in exasperation though George didn't miss the flush that crawled across her cheeks.

"Thanks," she mumbled gratefully, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and grinning sheepishly at him. George shrugged it off and continued down the hallway, Katie falling into step alongside him. The boy opened his mouth to say something though stopped as Fred's words rang in his ears for the second time that day: "_…date to the ball…" _

George suddenly stopped, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then turned rather abruptly towards his teammate. Katie glanced up at him in mild alarm for an all too familiar smirk had folded mischievously across his lips.

"So I'll be seeing you for the ball then?" he stated, more of a confirmation than a question. Katie blinked, startled, before a snort escaped her lips and she crossed her arms in mock defiance across her chest.

"And what makes you think I don't already have a date?" she asked defensively, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. George shrugged his shoulders.

"Well if its a contest between me and this other bloke I think the answer's pretty obvious," he remarked. "I know you find gingers wildly irresistible."

Katie did her best to hold a straight face but failed, giggles bubbling freely from her lips.

"Alright you win," she said, unable to hide the smile that spread across her lips. "I'll go with you."

It was as though someone had used a vanishing spell on the weight in George's chest and he grinned broader than ever.

"Brilliant."

…

In the blink of an eye Christmas was upon them and the twins woke on the morning of the Yule Ball with an anticipatory energy thrumming in their veins. Fred had been quite pleased upon hearing how George had managed to secure Katie as his date. He had, of course, wasted no time pointing out that his twin's tactics hadn't been quite as exciting as his own yet all the same, job well done.

"Rise and shine Lee!" Fred called across their dormitory, grabbing the pillow from his bed and chucking it at his sleeping friend. "You've got presents!" Lee muttered something undecipherable to human ears but sat up nonetheless, blinking tiredly in the morning sunlight. Yet five minutes later all sleepiness was forgotten as the twins and Lee pounced on their gifts with exuberant ferocity, littering their dormitory with long, multi-colored pieces of torn tissue paper, glittering wrappings, and curly ribbon.

Fred and George tore open identical lumpy packages from their mother to reveal lovingly knitted scarlet sweaters within, each decorated with a beater's bat and a large golden F and G respectively. The twins exchanged matching sinister grins and immediately swapped garments, Fred donning George's 'G' imprinted sweater while George pulled Fred's over his head.

"Wish you two would stop doing that," Lee mumbled, having witnessed the little exchange. Being their best mate he was normally quite good at figuring out who was Fred and who was George, yet little stunts like this did nothing to make the process easier.

The day passed quickly, the twins heading down to the Christmas feast and enjoying several mouthwatering helpings of pudding and large bites of juicy turkey, every once in awhile taking a break from the meal to pull Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers with various housemates and friends. As the close of the feast came upon them, Fred and George joined the other Gryffindors making their way back into the entrance hall before slipping into the shadows of the large double doors and waiting for Ron to make his way out. They had planned their own 'Christmas Surprise' for their youngest brother. A minute later George nudged Fred and pointed to where the boy was making his way towards them, flanked as he always was by Harry and Hermione, and seemingly arguing with the latter.

"-don't see why you refuse to tell us," he was stating grumpily. "Honestly we're going to find out anyway."

"Because it's none of your business Ronald!" Hermione responded waspishly, "and if you don't stop asking me I'm going to hex you!"

"Not a bad idea Granger," George spoke up, he and Fred stepping suddenly from the shadows of the large doors and joining the trio in their trudge across the hall. "Preferably some kind of tongue tying jinx so we don't have to listen to him prattling on all day."

"Clear off," Ron muttered, shooting a glare in his brothers' direction.

"Can't do that mate," Fred stated cheerfully. "George, if you would."

And before Ron knew what had happened George had swooped down and grabbed his legs while Fred went for his arms and together they began to carry their struggling brother towards the large front doors leading out to the grounds. Ron yelled and protested, making such a spectacle that more than one person stopped to peer curiously at them from their scattered positions around the entrance hall. Harry and Hermione followed, both with large grins on their faces as they did nothing to aid their captive friend. Upon reaching the doors Ron struggled even harder in his bid for freedom while Fred turned to Harry, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Potter, would you mind?" he asked. Ron immediately turned his eyes on his best friend.

"Harry if you do I swear-" yet he was cut off as Harry pushed the door open, allowing the twins to scurry out with Ron still swinging between them.

"That snow pile looks rather good wouldn't you say?" George inquired, jerking his head in the direction of a rather large drift stationed about ten feet from the large front doors. Fred's answering grin was response enough and together the two slipped and slid through the snow, not relinquishing their hold on Ron for a second.

"Don't you dare!" Ron bellowed. "I swear I'll murder you-"

"Count of three!" Fred exclaimed, pointedly ignoring his brother's threats. "One…Two…Three!"

The twins gave a great heave and Ron sailed out of their grip, momentarily airborne before landing in the drift with a soft fwoomp. Fred, George, and Harry roared with laughter and even Hermione couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips at poor Ron's expense.

"Well done Harry," George stated, clapping him on the back with a grin while Fred nodded his agreement.

"Think that's funny do you?" Ron growled, attempting to claw his way out of the snow bank. "Harry I'm going to bloody kill you."

"Oh come on Ronniekins, it was just a bit of fun," Fred stated with a laugh, reaching down and helping to pull his brother out from within the drift.

"Oh really?" Ron questioned, a grin of his own melting across his lips. "I'll show you a bit of fun!" And with that he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Fred's middle and tackling him to the ground. The two boys hit the snow with an audible thump, rolling down the sloping lawns in the direction of Hagrid's cabin before finally coming to a halt at the bottom of the incline. George, Harry, and Hermione followed in swift pursuit, arriving in time to see the boys spring apart, Ron leaning down to arm himself with a snowball.

"They'll freeze!" Hermione gasped, already rubbing her chilled arms in an attempt to recapture some of her earlier warmth.

"They'll be fine!" George responded, scooping up snow in both hands and hurrying forward to get in on the action. Harry wasn't far behind him. Hermione huffed, crossing her arms across her chest and shaking her head at the boys in front of her.

"Honestly…"

…

As the hour neared seven the group finally abandoned their snowball fight and made their way back up the grounds to the castle. Hermione had left them hours before in order to prepare for the ball and the twins couldn't help but notice that Ron had seemed rather grumpy about it. Yet they decided, for once, to let the matter slide and together tromped back through the corridors and up to the Gryffindor common room, passing through the fat lady's portrait ("Lairy fights, that's the one!"), before finally leaving Harry and Ron to enter their own dormitory.

Upon arrival, the two wasted no time changing into identical sets of forest green dress robes, feeling very lucky indeed that neither pair contained frills or moldy bits of lace. They would be meeting Katie and Angelina in the common room around seven thirty so they had a few minutes to kill before then. Lee Jordan had already headed back down the spiral staircase, having donned robes of deep navy blue minutes before the twins got back.

George leaned over his trunk, shifting through the usual mess in attempts to find a comb he knew he had in there somewhere. Clearly his lack of knowledge regarding its whereabouts proved how little he bothered with it. All the same, he knew his mum would kill him if he didn't make some effort to straighten up his appearance so find the little comb he must. Fred, on the other hand, had clearly tidied himself up as much as he deemed fit and was now crouched over his knee, lacing up a pair of his father's old dress shoes.

"You about finished?" he asked once the lacing was complete, straightening up and fixing his brother with an impatient stare. George, who had had enough of the little brush eluding him, finally pulled out his wand and used a summoning charm, the evasive accessory flying into his hand a second after.

A few brushstrokes later, the twins were making their way back down the spiraling staircase and into the common room that was now overflowing with Gryffindor students. Dress robes of all colors flashed prettily in the warm light provided by the fire dancing in the hearth, a rather drastic switch from the usual muted black tones.

The two stood in the center of the general chaos, glancing around gleefully at the students milling across the room attempting to locate their dates in all the confusion. George nudged Fred and pointed to where Ron and Harry were making their way down the staircase, Ron's face pulled into a sour grimace that most definitely had to do with the frayed robes draped unflatteringly over his form.

"Mum would be so proud," Fred muttered causing George to snort with laughter. At that moment the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the common room's banter and the twins turned, mouths falling open in identical expressions of surprise. Katie and Angelina were standing there, glowing in the firelight and clearly pleased at the reaction given them by the Weasley boys. Not that anyone could blame them as both girls looked very pretty indeed. Angelina was wearing robes of deep scarlet, her dark hair curled flatteringly around her face, and shadows of gold rested on her eyelids, drawing attention to her chocolate brown eyes. Katie was sporting robes of glittering blue, her hair pulled back in an elaborate bun and several sparkling bracelets jangled cheerfully on her wrists.

"You two look nice," George spoke up before Fred had a chance to find his voice, a rare occurrence indeed for the usually outspoken Weasley twin.

"Thank you," Katie responded, absolutely beaming at George. Angelina looked expectantly at Fred who grinned at her and said:

"Right then, let's be off!" Angelina blinked. This was clearly not what she'd been expecting him to say.

"Such a gentleman," she stated dryly though wasted no time sliding her arm through Fred's proffered one. The four made their way towards the portrait hole, Fred making sure to wink at a very pink faced Harry as they passed him on their way out.

"Makes you feel a bit sorry for the Patil twins eh?" he muttered to George who grinned his agreement. Ron, they'd noticed, was still looking sour.

The entrance hall was even more packed than the Gryffindor common room had been. Various Hogwarts students were scurrying to and fro, attempting to locate their dates before the Great Hall doors opened at precisely eight-o-clock.

"Katie! Angelina!" The quartet turned to see Alicia Spinnet and Lee Jordan weaving their way through their scattered classmates, Alicia beaming and waving her hand madly in their direction. Angelina and Katie quickly stepped away from the twins, hurrying towards their fellow chaser, every bit of Alicia's excitement mirrored on their faces. The girls exchanged a massive hug in which a lot of giggling was involved, talking to each other with waves of exuberance available only to teenage girls. Lee sidled his way around the trio, rapidly closing the gap between him and the twins. Fred waited until he was sure the girls were looking at him before springing into action.

"Lee!" he exclaimed, so loudly he could be heard over the din of everyone else in the entrance hall. "Mate it's been _ages_!"

"You look positively smashing!" George continued, shoving Fred out of the way and throwing his arms around Lee with all the exuberance shown by the girls and none of the giggling.

"Oh shut up," Angelina told them, marching over and practically ripping George off of Lee.

Right at that moment a loud creak rent the air as the oak front doors opened, admitting the Durmstrang students and Professor Karkaroff. Beside him George heard Katie murmur: "That girl with Krum, who is she?"

George peered curiously in that direction, his eyes finally landing on a brown haired girl in blue robes who was looking quite lovely indeed. He was about to shrug and say he didn't know when she suddenly smiled and the realization hit him like a bludger.

"Bloody hell…" Apparently Fred had realized it too for he turned to stare at George, their eyes meeting in identical expressions of dumbfounded astonishment. Yet before any further discussion could be had on the matter Professor McGonagall's voice was heard, calling loudly over the excited babble of the students.

"Champions over here, please!"

"There goes Harry!" Alicia whispered. Sure enough, Harry was practically being dragged across the floor by Parvati who looked much more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he did.

"Oh and Cedric Diggory!" Katie piped up. "Doesn't he look charming tonight?" George faked offense as Alicia nodded enthusiastically.

"Contrary to popular belief, we have feelings too you know," he stated pointedly.

"Yeah. Bit rude to be blowing kisses at someone else's date with your own standing right there," Fred agreed, mischief sparking in his eyes.

"I wasn't blowing kisses!" Katie protested, going rather red in the face.

"Come on, we're heading in," Angelina interrupted, nodding towards where all of the students were filing into the Great Hall. The six wasted no time following everyone else's example, allowing themselves to be swept along into the crowded entryway. The girls gasped and even Fred and George couldn't stop the awed expressions that crept onto their faces upon catching a glimpse of the decorations. It was like the Holidays and thrown up all over the Great Hall. Glittering silver frost lined the walls from top to bottom, reflecting the lantern light from a hundred circular tables occupying the space where the four house tables normally stood.

"Watch your head," Fred muttered in his twin's ear, nodding up to where an abundance of mistletoe and ivy were crisscrossing every which way across the velvety ceiling above. "Wouldn't want to get caught under that with anyone unpleasant." Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were giggling behind them and Fred had the strong suspicion that they were discussing the exact same thing. The six fell into a table behind the one at which Ron was sitting, not far from where the teachers, judges, and ministry officials were seated.

"Isn't that your brother?" Lee Jordan suddenly hissed as a few more students filled the table's remaining vacant seats. The twins frowned.

"Afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific," George retorted flatly. Lee rolled his eyes but nevertheless jerked his head in the direction of the head table. The twins followed his line of sight to a familiar head of red hair and horn rimmed spectacles.

"What the bloody hell is Percy doing here?" Fred asked, clearly too surprised to remember to keep his voice down and several nearby Beauxbatons students glanced disapprovingly in their direction.

"And look who else," George continued so quietly that only Fred could hear him. Ludo Bagman was speaking rather animatedly to Madame Maxime, his bright purple robes with their shocking yellow stars hard to miss against the pearly silver backdrop. Fred's eyes darkened.

"Excellent. Won't have much choice but to talk to us now will he?" he responded grimly. Angelina watched this exchange with mounting exasperation.

"If you two have finished scheming you might want to know the Champions are walking in!" she hissed.

"Not like we haven't seen them before," Fred mumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair and turning his gaze towards the double doors. Nevertheless he joined with the others in applauding the champions, all save Harry looking as though they were greatly enjoying this time in the spotlight.

"Blimey!" Lee Jordan suddenly exclaimed, rising a bit off his chair and peering enthusiastically around the students in front of him. "Is that Hermione Granger with Viktor Krum!" Several of their table's occupants swiveled around in their seats at his words, all craning to get a better look at Krum and Hermione.

"I didn't even recognize her!" Alicia said in astonishment while Katie and Angelina nodded their agreement.

"No wonder Ron's looking so sour," George muttered to Fred who snickered.

Dinner passed in a whirl of delicious aromas and sensuous flavors. It was an unusual treat to be able to order whatever they wished from the menu in front of them and Fred had to resist the temptation to shout out multiple entrées at once. The house elves down below had clearly outdone themselves this time. Once the main course had been thoroughly consumed the desserts appeared and Fred found himself wishing he had two more mouths so he could enjoy it all at once.

Yet all too soon the last of the puddings and cakes had been disposed of and Dumbledore again got to his feet, the rest of the students following his example. In the blink of an eye all the tables had zoomed back to the walls, leaving the Great Hall's floor empty of all save students and teachers. A moment later the Weird Sisters appeared on the stage summoned forth by the Headmaster and Fred and George let out loud whoops as the Great Hall burst into raucous applause. The lanterns were doused as the champions took the floor, Harry stumbling a bit as he was pulled rather unceremoniously forward by Parvati.

A slow tune picked up and several minutes passed as the champions swayed to the music, every eye in the hall fixed on them. Fred mimed a yawn and Angelina swatted him.

"Want to dance?" she asked, nodding towards where several staff members and various students had begun to swarm the floor alongside the champions. Fred rubbed his arm, raising an eyebrow at her.

"What you just hit me and now you want to _dance_?" he asked, tone all innocence. Angelina however, wasn't buying it.

"Shut it and come on," she told him, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the dance floor. Fred nearly tripped over his dress robes as he was dragged along behind her, suddenly experiencing a rather large bout of sympathy towards Harry.

As the two swayed to the music Fred decided that slow dancing wasn't really his style and he was hard pressed to suppress another yawn. Sure it was nice having an attractive girl on your arm and all, but in general he found the placid movements required rather dull. The next song that picked up however was much more to his liking. Stepping back from Angelina he immediately started rocking back and forth to the upbeat rhythm, moving his body in a rather violent fashion. Yet Angelina wasn't about to be outdone.

"Not bad Weasley," she said with a grin. "But try this!" And with that she began to move her body back and forth to the music, the girl's dancing every bit as exuberant as her partner's. The pair were so caught up in their fervent steps that they didn't notice other students backing pointedly away from them, afraid of getting caught up in their overenthusiastic jiving.

George and Katie were dancing a couple feet away, albeit a little less ardently than the previous pair. Every once in awhile they were forced to perform a rather un-rhythmic sidestep in order to avoid being plowed over by Madame Maxime and Hagrid who were taking up a good majority of the dance floor.

"Going to kill someone they are!" George grumbled as Katie pulled him out of the way for a third time that night. "I think they've forgotten there's anyone else on the dance floor!" Katie giggled.

"Look, I think Hagrid's had a few," she said, gesturing to where the gamekeeper was staring adoringly up at Madame Maxime, cheeks tinged a bright, rosy red.

"That'd explain a thing or two," George muttered in response. Yet any irritation caused by the ample pair was soon lost in the thrill of music and dance, the Weird Sisters' fetching tunes calling students to the dance floor again and again. As the final notes from the latest song hovered in the air Katie finally stopped dancing, brushing a few stray hairs from her forehead with her fingertips.

"I think I'd rather fancy a butterbeer," she stated breathlessly, smiling up at George. "Would you care for one too?"

"Yeah alright," the boy responded, glancing over towards Fred and Angelina. The two had finally taken a break from their enthusiastic dance steps and had joined in with the thunderous applause at the Weird Sisters' latest performance. Katie followed his train of sight and grinned, grabbing George's arm and pulling him over to where the other two were standing.

"Angelina!" she called over the first blaring notes of the next song. The girl turned, as did Fred beside her, and the pair immediately smiled at George and Katie's arrival.

"Hello!" Angelina responded, shouting to be heard over the music.

"Want to grab a few bottles of butterbeer with me?" Katie inquired, gesturing in the direction of the refreshment table. Angelina glanced briefly at Fred before turning back to Katie and nodding, a knowing smile spreading across her lips.

"Alright sure," she replied. Katie beamed at her and the two girls turned towards the mottle of students surrounding the beverages. Fred and George made to follow them but Angelina quickly put a stop to that.

"We'll meet you back here!" she told them.

"Don't worry, we'll grab yours for you," Katie concluded and with another giggle the two set off across the room. The twins stared after them for a moment before Fred shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"Women. I will never understand them," he stated loudly.

"Hear, hear," George responded and the two grinned at each other. At that moment a familiar pompous voice broke through the roar of the music and the twins glanced up to see Percy carrying on a conversation with Hogwarts' current Head Boy, a rather short Ravenclaw with dark hair and a twitchy complexion.

"Poor bloke," Fred murmured condolingly.

"What do you reckon we lend a hand?" George asked, though he needn't have bothered as Fred had already begun to weave his way through their fellow classmates in a beeline towards the older Weasley sibling.

"Weatherby!" he called loudly, slinging an arm around Percy's shoulders and fixing him with a positively winning grin.

"Fancy meeting you here!" George continued, sliding up on Percy's other side and flinging his arm over Fred's. The Ravenclaw Head Boy took advantage of the distraction and quickly melted away into the crowd, disappearing in a matter of seconds. Percy immediately scowled, ducking out of his brothers' grip and straightening his glasses in an attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity.

"If the two of you don't mind!" he snapped, straightening his robes and glaring at them. "I happen to be working!"

"Working?" Fred repeated, raising a brow. "Here?"

"What, Ministry get bored of cauldron bottoms already?" George inquired, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Beside him Fred donned an expression of incredibly over exaggerated shock. Percy however, drew himself up importantly, puffing out his chest in an all too familiar fashion.

"I've been promoted!" he stated in a grand voice, speaking loud enough so those standing close by could hear him too. "I am now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant and as he could not make it tonight, I am here representing him."

"Personal assistant eh?" George stated, clearly trying not to laugh. "That's pretty impressive Perce."

"He learn your name yet?" Fred inquired innocently. Percy visibly colored.

"Of course he- don't know where you get off- stop speaking _rubbish _you two!" he spluttered, a small tick forming underneath his left eye.

"So he hasn't then?" George pressed, grinning widely. Percy glared at him.

"Where's your date Perce?" Fred inquired suddenly, glancing around. "Seeing how you're Mr. Crouch's _personal _assistant and all I'm surprised you're not beating the ladies away with a stick." If possible Percy flushed even deeper.

"For your information, I came by myself tonight," he responded waspishly. "Unlike the pair of you, I'm not here for _fun_. This is strictly wo-"

"Of course, how stupid of us," George interrupted, putting on a serious face. "Why on earth would anyone do something like attend a ball for _fun_?"

"Sorry Weatherby, our mistake," Fred added. Percy gaped at them for a moment before shaking his head, turning on his heel and marching away, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like: "…write to mum…" The twins could contain themselves no longer and burst into loud gales of laughter.

As their amusement with their brother faded, Fred found himself glancing around the Great Hall, looking over the sea of heads for any sign of their dates.

"Now where have the girls got to?" he inquired, his mouth quirking downward in the hint of a frown. George snorted.

"Probably halfway through an incredibly enticing gossip session complete with high pitched giggles and other girly rubbish," he responded flatly.

"Well let's leave them to it then," Fred responded. "I don't know about you but I'm in no rush to interrupt that." George was about to nod his agreement when rapid movement in his peripherals caught his attention. Glancing to the right he saw Hermione Granger storming across the floor, a very frazzled expression on her face, her hands clenched into angry fists. Suddenly suspicious, the boy glanced back in the direction she'd come from and wasn't surprised to see Ron sitting with Harry, looking every bit as perturbed as Hermione. Nudging Fred's shoulder, George gestured over to where the girl had sat herself down on one of the chairs and slammed her forehead into her palms, looking as though she was about to cry. Fred winced.

"Looks like ickle Ronniekins opened his mouth again, doesn't it," he muttered.

"Care for a go at cheering her up?" George asked. Fred hesitated.

"I dunno mate. I'm not sure how many more crying women I can handle throwing themselves at me," he answered. Yet he sighed at a pointed look from George and followed his twin across the floor and over to where the brunette was sitting. Surprisingly it was he who spoke first.

"Unfortunately I'm a little short on tea, but care for a sweet?" Fred asked the girl, plopping into the seat beside her and pulling a slightly squashed candy from his pocket. Hermione lifted her head from her hands and gave him an incredulous look.

"Oh you would love that wouldn't you, Fred Weasley! Me turning into a plump little canary in the middle of the dance floor! Yes of course, that would make my night _so _much better!" she exclaimed, brown eyes flashing angrily. Fred blinked. Well _that _hadn't gone quite the way he'd expected it to.

"Well that wasn't exactly what he had in mind," George spoke up, wasting no time sitting on her other side. "Though if you did fancy a canary cream, all you'd have to do is pop this little beauty in your mouth." And without missing a beat George pulled another brightly wrapped candy from his own pocket and held it out to her.

"On the other hand, if you wanted to slip it to our younger brother instead we wouldn't complain," Fred stated knowingly, trying a grin. To his great relief Hermione's face finally broke into a watery smile and she swiped a hand quickly across her eyes.

"Saw that did you?" she asked. George shook his head.

"Not exactly," he told her.

"But you have to understand," Fred put in, "that after living with Ronald for as long as we have, one learns to assume idiocy wherever he's involved." Hermione sighed, her palms finding her forehead again.

"He's just so _thick _sometimes!" she moaned. The twins snorted.

"Preaching to the choir love," Fred told her.

"There you are Herm-own-ninny," said a voice suddenly from behind them. The twins glanced up to see Viktor Krum standing there, two butterbeers clutched tightly in his hands.

"Oh yes, hello Viktor," Hermione said, attempting a smile. Krum frowned.

"Who are these two?" he inquired, nodding at Fred and George.

"Oh! Er, well-" Hermione began, but was interrupted as the twins got to their feet.

"Fred and George Weasley, pleased to meet you," Fred introduced spiritedly.

"Rather large fans of yours actually," George added with a grin.

"Please continue doing your best to annoy our little brother as you've done a splendid job already!" Fred continued. Krum frowned.

"Vhat-"

"You two behave yourselves now," George interrupted.

"Because we obviously won't," Fred finished and with a wink the two left a gaping Krum and an exasperated Hermione behind them.

The pair made their way back across the Great Hall, weaving between dancing classmates, dodging Hagrid and Madame Maxime, and finally drawing within eyeshot of the refreshment table. Fred was about to suggest going in search of the girls when his eyes fell on a figure clad in bright purple and shocking yellow. Ludo Bagman. He was moving away from the dance floor, a rather large smile on his face, his eyes set on the butterbeer. Elbowing George rather painfully in the ribs Fred jerked his head in the direction of the senior Ministry member.

"Let's go," George said determinedly and the two set off across the floor.

"Mr. Bagman!" Fred called, striding purposefully forward. "Mr. Bagman!" Bagman glanced over at them and his smile disappeared almost immediately.

"Oh, er, hullo boys," he said awkwardly, eyes darting all over the room for some sort of escape route.

"We need to talk to you about-" George began but Bagman cut him off.

"So sorry you two but I've just remembered something urgent I've got to speak with Dumbledore about. Ministry business I hope you understand," he told them, his voice rising a few octaves in pitch.

"But-"

"Enjoy the ball!" the man told them and before the twins could say anything he bustled away across the dance floor.

"That slippery _git_!" Fred growled in frustration, glaring after Bagman's retreating back.

"He's not even talking to Dumbledore, look," George muttered, watching as the man in question immediately engaged Harry and Percy in conversation. "He could at least _pretend _like he's not lying to us."

"Like who's not lying to you?"

The twins turned to see that Angelina and Katie had finally returned, scrumptious looking bottles of butterbeer held invitingly in their hands.

"Oh, er, no one," George replied evasively. Angelina raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't press the matter, much to the twins relief.

The butterbeers were popped open and thoroughly enjoyed, the return of Katie and Angelina helping to push the twins' annoyance at Bagman to the backs of their minds. They polished off their drinks in no time at all and barely five minutes later had returned to the dance floor, throwing themselves headfirst into the throng of dancing students.

Fred twirled Angelina around, grinning as she laughed delightedly, her upbeat dance steps causing her hair to fly around her face like a dark halo. As the two moved to the music Fred couldn't help thinking that events such as these really should take a front seat on Hogwarts' priorities list.

"Want to take a break?" Angelina asked breathlessly as the last notes of the song hung in the air. Fred shrugged.

"Sure," he responded. The pair left George and Katie on the dance floor, carefully making their way through the groups of students and ending up near the refreshment table again.

"Care for another?" Fred asked with a grin, motioning towards the enticing looking butterbeers sitting on the table. Angelina laughed.

"Alright," she responded. Fred swiped one of the bottles from the table and popped it open, handing it to Angelina before grabbing one for himself. He took a long swig, relishing the taste as the liquid slid deliciously over his taste buds.

"Having a good time?" Angelina inquired, diverting his attention from the butterbeer in his hand. Fred grinned at her.

"Definitely. You?" She nodded, her eyes flicking towards the entrance hall. The front doors leading to the grounds were standing open and they could just make out the glow of fairy lights fluttering from somewhere outside.

"Want to take a walk?" Angelina asked, rather out of the blue. Fred blinked.

"Yeah, alright," he responded, suddenly experiencing a twinge of unexpected anticipation. Shrugging it off he grinned at Angelina, who was staring oddly at him, and lead the way out into the entrance hall.

As the two stepped onto the grounds Fred couldn't help a low whistle of approval from escaping his lips. Not that he was one for lovey-dovey romantic nonsense but even he had to admit, the scenery was impressive. The rose garden sparkled with the glow of twinkling fairy lights that lined their way down the steps and out to a winding, ornamental path. Large stone statues were placed every so often along the trail and somewhere in the distance Fred could hear splashing water. Of course. Obviously no romantic scene would be complete without a fountain.

The two of them strolled along the path, not saying much, exchanging amused grins whenever they stumbled upon couples getting intimate in the shadows of the bushes. Another peaceful minute ticked by and Fred found himself wishing he had thought to bring a few rounds of filibuster fireworks with him as the grounds were a little too serene for his tastes. He was about to express his views to his date when the girl suddenly spoke up.

"Oh look! There's the fountain!" she said excitedly, hurrying past a stone reindeer to where a tall fountain was indeed glowing brilliantly in the fairy light.

"Never seen one of those before have you?" Fred asked, grinning as Angelina rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up," she told him, yet was unable to help a slightly sheepish smile from folding across her lips. Slowly the boy strolled over so the two were standing side by side, staring down at the glittering water and the glowing fairy lights reflected on its twinkling surface. Turning his head Fred looked at Angelina, taking in her eyes, cinnamon lips, pink tinged cheeks, and silky hair framing it all.

"You look beautiful tonight Ange," he found himself saying, not exactly sure where the words had come from.

That bloody fountain.

She smiled at him and an amused giggle escaped her lips.

"Took you long enough," she told him in teasing admonishment. Fred frowned.

"What?"

"To tell me I look nice," she explained, laughing as Fred said nothing. "Normally you're supposed to say it right away and I was beginning to think you weren't going to."

"Oh," the boy said, finding it was his turn to look sheepish. "Guess Ron's not the only thick one in our family."

"Oh really?" Angelina asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Yeah," Fred responded, fully aware of how close she was standing to him. "I mean there's Percy too…" His voice trailed off as she stepped even closer, smiling up at him.

"And…?" she breathed.

"And…can I kiss you?" Fred found himself mumbling. Angelina's smile widened and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Is that you or the butterbeer talking?" she whispered.

"I-" Fred began but before he could even finish his sentence Angelina had pressed her lips to his and whatever he was going to say jumped out of his mind faster than Goyle on Christmas pudding. Yes, he thought as his arms wrapped around Angelina's waist, he definitely had a thing or two to say to Dumbledore regarding priorities.

…

**Yay! Alright I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I'm going on the assumption that Fred and Angelina were a bit of a couple at some point in the series, as it was vaguely hinted at in some places. Don't worry, I'm not forgetting about George and Angelina getting married. In any case thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought! Thanks for all the reviews and support so far!**

**~Phoenix**


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